
L OSY'dfthe 

ivmm<k WESi 



./ 





Class 
Book. 



FrofL 



Gopyright}^?. 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 



HARD KNOCKS 

A LIFE STORY o/^/ze 
VANISHING WEST 



By HARRY (SAM) YOUNG 



PORTLAND, OREGON 
1915 



■yr^ 



COPYRIGHT, 1915 
By Harry Young 



Wells & Company 

pmnters and publishers 

portland, oregon 

©GI,A411112 



DEDICATION 

TO those brave and generous men whom 
I met and knew along the rugged Life 
Journey herein described, I dedicate 
these treasures of a fruitful memory. May 
those who fell by the wayside rest peacefully, 
and those who still trudge on, find Life's 
Trail less difficult as they approach its end. 

Harry Young 



PUBLISHER'S NOTE 

IN presenting this book, the publishers feel that 
they need not emphasize either its purpose or 
its merits. They will speak for themselves. The 
reader will need no spur to his interest, nor the 
work require either apology or explanation. Inter- 
est is certain from beginning to end, and few readers 
will wish to lay the book aside until they have reached 
the end of the rapidly succeeding incidents. If crudity 
mar in any respect, it will be quickly forgotten in the 
manifest truthfulness and candor of the narrator. 

The great lesson of the book is that "truth is 
stranger than fiction." The life story here given 
belongs to a generation that has not only seen 
the world's greatest advancement, but has been 
a part of the greatest development of our own 
country. It has been a period rich in story, and the ex- 
periences here detailed run like a thread through the 
entire fabric. In the main, they deal not with the 
great heroes, — the Carsons, the Custers, and the Buf- 
falo Bills, — but with the great multitude of brave and 
adventurous spirits that have swept over the West in 
the past generation, and to whose undaunted courage 
and tireless energy our development is mainly due. 



CONTENTS 

Page 
Dedication 3 

Publisher's Note 4 

CHAPTER 1 9 

A Life in Summary, Effects of Dime Novel Literature, 

Etc. 
CHAPTER II 13 

New Ideals, Hugh, the Kentuckian, Off for Fort 

Gibson. 
CHAPTER III 20 

Our Well-Tagged Baggage, Deserted, "Tenderfoot," 

A Strange Offer of Marriage, Etc. 
CHAPTER IV 28 

In the Creek Indian Country, The Seminoles, Lost on 

the Range. 
CHAPTER V 35 

The Cherokee Strip, Ousted by Uncle Sam, Bank Rob- 
bers, Buckets of Real Snakes. 
CHAPTER VI 41 

Santa Fe Extension West, "Wild Bill," Kansas Buf- i» 

falo Exterminated in Two Years. 
CHAPTER VII 60 

Pioneer Life at Fort Dodge, Unsung and Unhung 

Heroes, A Tribute to Dance Hall Girls. 
CHAPTER VIII 69 

Murders for Money, Over the Union Pacific Railroad, 

Red Pat the Teamster. 
CHAPTER IX 76 

On the Chugwater, Fort Laramie, My First Sioux, 

Red Cloud, Etc. 
CHAPTER X 83 

Historic Happenings at and Around Fort Laramie, Cus- 
toms and Habits of Army Officers, Reminiscences of 

Army Officers. 
CHAPTER XI 97 

Great Powers Invested in Commanding Officers of 

Frontier Posts, A Nut for Scientists to Crack, An 

Amusing Incident. 
CHAPTER XII 109 

The Sleep of the Just, In the Platte River, Light on 

Indian Policies, Some Famous Sioux Chiefs. 
CHAPTER XIII 117 

"Sitting Bull," Indians as Beggars and Drinkers, A 

High-Grade Indian Funeral, "Red Cloud." 



CHAPTER XIV 126 

More Bad Indians, Beef Cattle Issues, Indian Coward- 
ice, Sioux Enumeration, The Puppy Dog Feast and 
What it Accomplished. 

CHAPTER XV 134 

The Sioux Language, Rise of Tobacco Habit, Indian 
Courtship and Marriage, Sioux Theory of the Origin 
of Indians. 

CHAPTER XVI 142 

Sioux War Dance, How Scalping is Done, Sun Wor- 
shippers, Counting Their Virgins, Horrible Tortures. 

CHAPTER XVII 147 

How the Interior Department Lost Control of the Sioux, 
Unwritten History of the Custer Massacre. 

CHAPTER XVIII 159 

A Tribute to Captain Burke. Calamity Jane. 

CHAPTER XIX 176 

Jim Duncan, the Great Wagonmaster, Sioux Indians 
Attack and Kill My Partner, "Old Mack." 

CHAPTER XX 187 

Establishing Custer City, the First Town in the Black 
Hills. 

CHAPTER XXI 192 

Organizing the Custer City Scouts, Dying Confession 
from a Man Who Did Not Die, 

CHAPTER XXII 201 

Indians Stealing Montana Herd, Scalping a Sioux. 

CHAPTER XXIII 209 

First Sermon in Deadwood, Indian Head Celebration, 
Death of "Wild Bill." 

CHAPTER XXIV 225 

A Ride with Dispatches, The Horse a Faithful Sen- 
tinel, Comic Happenings in Deadwood. 

CHAPTER XXV 241 

My Buffalo Venture in Portland. 

ADDENDA 243 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Opposite Page 
The Author, Harry ( Sam) Young % ^ 

The great gun fight between Kansas and Texas gun fight- 
ers in Tim Shea's dance hall, Newton, Kansas, 1867. ^ 
(Sketch) 16*^ 

The author killing his first buffalo, Southwestern Kansas. , 

(Sketch) ZliX 

The invention of the author: Skinning buffalo by mule , 

power, Southwestern Kansas. (Sketch) 40 '^ 

J. B. Hickok (Wild Bill) 48 iX 

The great Western peace officer. Marshal of the towns of 

Hayes City, Abeline and Ellsworth, Kansas, from 1868 

to 1870. (From a photo taken in 1871.) 

A group of Dodge City, Kansas, gun fighters in 1870. (From ^ 

an old photo taken in Kansas City in 1871) 56 

Calamity Jane, the great female character of Wyoming / 

from 1875 to 1906 64 "^ 

Frank Guard, the great Indian scout, 1875-6. (Sketch) ... 12^ 

The Deering massacre near Fort Laramie, 1873. (Sketch) 80 ^ 



v^ 



Sioux Indians running off K Co., 2nd Cavalry, horses, 1873, 

Fort Laramie (Sketch) 88 

Tieing a soldier up by the thumbs at Fort Laramie, Wyom- . 

ing, 1873. (Sketch) 96 ^ 

The author tied "spread eagle" on a cannon. Fort Fetter- 
man, Wyoming, 1873. (Sketch) 104 '/' 

Young Sioux Indians torturing themselves at their Sun 

Dance, Red Cloud Agency, 1874. (Sketch) 112 ^ 

The hanging of three desperate characters at Laramie City, 

Wyoming, Oct. 28, 1868. (From an old Daguerrotype) 120 •/' 

Sioux Indians counting their virgins at their Sun Dance at / 

Red Cloud Agency, 1874. (Sketch) 128 ^ 

Tusoh Kessler, a Sioux half-breed, escaping from Cheyenne 

jail, 1873. (Sketch) 136 ^ 

The death of Frank Appleton, acting agent Red Cloud 

Agency, 1875. The true cause of the Sioux War, 1876. , / 

(Sketch) 144 ^ 

California Joe, the great mountaineer and guide in the / 

Black Hills, S. D. (Sketch) 160 ^ 

The author parking wood near Fort Fetterman, Wyoming, 

where his partner, old Mack, was killed by Sioux In- / 

dians. (Sketch) 176 



The author and companions attacked by Sioux Indians, 

1876. (Sketch) 192 v^ 

Monument of the Rev. Smith, the pioneer minister of Dead- ^ 

wood, S. D., erected by the citizens 200 

The death of Wild Bill, Aug. 2, 1876, at Deadwood, S. D. / 

(Sketch) 208 

Buffalo Bill Cody and friends visiting the grave of Wild , 

Bill at Deadwood, S. D., 1906 216 

The Indian head celebration at Deadwood, S. D., 1876. 

(Sketch) 224 ' 

The author scalping a dead Sioux Indian, 1876. (Sketch) 240*^ 

NOTE: The illustrations in "Hard Knocks" after which the 
word "sketch" appears, were drawn from descriptions 
furnished by the author. 




THE AUTHOR 
Harry (Sam) Young 



HARD KNOCKS 



CHAPTER I. 

A LIFE IN SUMMARY— EFFECTS OF DIME NOVEL LITER- 
ATURE— A FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD RUNAWAY— THE 
LOST BROTHER— ALONE IN NEW YORK— OFF FOR 
THE WESTERN PLAINS— MY STRANGE FRIEND, 
"THE HEALER." 

IN this country where blood and station count for 
naught, and where the race of hfe is open to all 
comers, it is for little more than a mere matter 
of record to say that I, Harry Young, the author, 
was born in Cape Vincent, New York, in 1849. 
I left my home in 1863, at the age of 14 years, and, 
as this narrative will show, have lived in the West 
ever since that time. My home is now in Portland, 
Oregon, the metropolis of the great Northwest. When 
observation shows me what has been accomplished by 
the people of this section (to the generation of which 
it has been my privilege to belong), I feel a pardon- 
able pride in the fact that it is in the midst of these 
people my life thus far has been spent. 

I am not sure that there was much, if any, patriot- 
ism in my early sentiments, but there was certainly a 
decided tinge of romance in my make-up, doubtless due 
to my having stored in my brain a considerable amount 
of literature of the dramatic variety. I had read 
everything obtainable in the line of dime novels, and 
my head was so filled with "hair-raising" stories of 
Indians, hunters, trappers, and other denizens of the 
Wild West, that I had my mind made up that it was 
my duty to go forth and encroach upon the domains 
of those nomads and assist in the extermination of the 
Noble Red Man. 

One beautiful morning I stole away from home and 
boarded a vessel called the "Greyhound." I had taken 



HARD KNOCKS Page 10 

my departure without going through the formality of 
bidding my parents good-bye, or even of obtaining 
their consent. The "Greyhound" was bound for 
Oswego, New York, and was loaded with shingle 
bolts. The distance was short, and, after a two-days' 
sail, we arrived at our destination. I worked for two 
days helping unload the vessel, for which I received the 
munificent sum of two dollars and fifty cents. This 
was in "shinplasters, — the old money of war times. I 
had never been away from home before for more than 
two days at a time in my life, except to visit friends 
and relatives. 

With this two dollars and fifty cents snugly stowed 
away in my pocket, I made my way to Fulton, New 
York. I was aware before leaving home that my 
brother "Bill," as we called him, was working in a ma- 
chine shop there. I determined to find him if possible. 
It was noon when I arrived in Fulton, and I went into 
the first machine shop I saw. As I entered, on a lathe 
lay a pair of greasy trousers which I recognized as a 
part of "Bill's" old working clothes, although he had 
been away from home for one year. 

I sat down and waited for some of the men to come 
back from their dinner. Presently, one of them 
walked in and I asked him if "Bill" Young worked in 
that shop. 

"Yes," he replied, "he's here. You stay with those 
old pants and you will find him soon, for they belong 
to him." 

Bill came in shortly afterward and was much sur- 
prised to see me. He immediately wanted to know 
where I was going. I informed him that I was bound 
for New York, but did not tell him it was my intention 
to become an Indian fighter. 

"You may stay here tonight," he said, "but in the 
morning you must go back home. I know you have 
run away." 



Page 11 HARDKNOCKS 

I begged to be allowed to go on, and after a while 
he consented. The next morning he paid my fare to 
New York City. I have never seen him since. 

I arrived in New York City that night at ten 
o'clock. I shall never forget it. I alighted at the old 
Hudson River depot, at Tenth Avenue and Thirtieth 
Street, and was carrying an old-style grip-sack. The 
hackmen immediately began to crowd around me, each 
urging me to ride with him. I did not care to do so 
as I now had but sixty-five cents in my pocket. 

Presently, one of the hackmen snatched my carpet 
bag from my hand, and placing it on the seat of the 
vehicle, insisted on my getting in. I refused to do so, 
and told my troubles to a passing policeman. He com- 
pelled the hackman to give up my bag, and asked me 
where I wanted to go. On being informed that I was 
a stranger in the city wanting to find a cheap lodging 
house, he took me across the street to a place having 
a lunch counter on the ground floor and rooms upstairs. 
I was not hungry, and went to bed without supper. 

Shortly after retiring, I was disturbed by some- 
thing, I knew not what. I sprang up bewildered, 
lighted the candle, and turned down the bedding. Good 
heavens! My companions were there by the thou- 
sands. I went down and told the clerk that although 
I was fond of Hfe and enjoyed it as much as anyone, 
there were times when there could be too much of it, 
especially in a bed. I sat up the balance of the night. 

The next day I obtained a position as bell boy in 
the Weldon Hotel, at the corner of Broadway and How- 
ard Streets. After working there for several months 
I went to New Orleans, from which place I worked my 
passage to Memphis on the old steamer "Bismark." 
From there I made my way to Fort Smith, Arkansas. 

At Fort Smith I became acquainted with a queer 
character, the first of many whom I met later on in 
the course of my travels. This man was about sixty 



HARD KNOCKS Page 12 

years old, fully six feet in height, with gray hair, long 
gray beard, and the longest arms and fingers I have 
ever seen on anyone. He took a great fancy to me and 
told me a great many strange things, among them, 
that he was "a healer" and could locate and cure any 
disease by the laying on of his hands. He said that 
he had just arrived in town, and wanted just such a 
boy as myself to sell tickets and distribute handbills 
for the public healing which he proposed to do while 
there. We finally arrived at an understanding and had 
some bills printed, which I distributed. These an- 
announced in glowing terms that "The Healer" would 
be at the hotel that evening at eight o'clock and would 
cure all ills that human flesh was heir to. 

When the much anticipated hour arrived, the only 
persons present were five old women, one of whom was 
an old negro mammy, who had with her a humpbacked 
boy. She requested the heeler to remove the de- 
formity. The healer informed her that he could do 
so and asked her to return with the boy at ten o'clock 
on the following morning. She became indignant, 
saying she had paid ten cents and was entitled to an 
immediate cure. The other women agreed with her, 
which caused considerable commotion and terminated 
in the breaking up of the entertainment. (Total re- 
ceipts were sixty cents). Becoming thoroughly dis- 
gusted I went to bed, and shortly after was joined by 
my bedfellow. The Healer. For the remainder of the 
night, he kept me in a state of constant fear by talking 
to the spirits. I made a firm mental resolve then and 
there, that if good fortune permitted me to live until 
morning, I would dissolve partnership with my strange 
friend. Rising early, without disturbing him, I des- 
cended to the hotel office, and after some very rapid 
thinking, I concluded to leave the town before the 
negro mammy returned. I was now fifteen years of 
age, and more thoroughly imbued with the spirit of 
adventure than ever. 



Page 13 HARDKNOCKS 



CHAPTER II. 

NEW IDEALS— HUGH— THE KENTUCKIAN— OFF FOR 
FORT GIBSON— MY FIRST RIFLE AND THE FIRST 
INDIAN — MY FIRST NIGHT ON THE PLAINS — 
ROUGHING IT— FIRST REQUEST FOR FOOD— FIRST 
WILD GAME— MY HERO. 

FROM this time on, I heard nothing more of my 
friend, The Healer. But if I had been disgusted 
with him, my first strange character, I was to 
be charmed with another whom I next met in 
the hotel office. This new acquaintance was a 
tall, raw-boned man, fully six feet, two inches in 
height, dressed entirely in buckskin and wearing a 
broad-brimmed hat and a long knife sticking in his 
belt. He was in every particular my ideal of the 
pictures I had seen, and of which I had read in the dime 
novels. 

Being prompted by some impulse, I commenced a 
conversation with him, during which he told me he 
was "Kentuck Hugh" (a noted trapper and hunter), 
and that he had killed and scalped many wild Indians 
in his time. He remarked that he was leaving at once 
for Fort Gibson, twenty-five miles northwest from Fort 
Smith, and that he intended to walk the entire distance, 
sending his effects ahead by stage, with the exception 
of two blankets and a long rifle, of the old pattern, 
which he proposed to carry with him. 

In suppressed excitement, I asked him if I might 
accompany him, and my joy knew no bounds when he 
replied in true backwoodsman style : "Sure ! be glad to 
have you." On being appraised that I had no money, 
he paid my hotel bill, amounting to a dollar and twenty- 
five cents, and put his bundle and my carpet bag aboard 
the stage. We crossed the river in a flat-bottomed 



HARD KNOCKS Page 14 

boat, and started on our way. How my whole being 
thrilled, and how my heart beat at the thought that 
I was going into a country of real live Indians. Here- 
tofore I had never had a gun of any kind in my hand, 
and I longed to handle his, but dared not ask him that 
privilege. 

We had walked but a short distance, when we saw 
a man coming on horseback. "Here comes an Indian." 
said Hugh, and my heart beat fast, expecting every 
moment to see Hugh kill and scalp him. 

"How are you and where are you going?" the In- 
dian asked, in very good English. 

"To Fort Gibson," Hugh replied. "Are we on the 
right road?" 

"Yes," was the Indian's reply. "This is the stage 
road and you can't go wrong." 

He then asked Hugh if he had any whiskey with 
him, and said that if he would give him a drink, he 
would go back with us and give us dinner. My com- 
panion produced a small flask of Peach Brandy and 
gave the Indian a drink, whereupon he turned back 
with us. I was watching him very closely all the while, 
and thinking that he was a rather tame looking In- 
dian, as he was dressed in white men's clothes. The 
only characteristics about him that to my mind were 
anything like those of an Indian, were his dark com- 
plexion and a few turkey feathers he wore in his hat. 

After a short time we arrived at his house. Hugh 
took a drink from the flask and gave our Indian friend 
another drink; the latter then spoke to his squaw in 
the Cherokee tongue, ordering her to get our dinner. 
She complied, but not in the most gracious manner 
possible, looking daggers at us all the while. 

Presently the dinner was ready, and a really good 
meal it was. The Indian retained the flask while we 
ate, and drank what was left. Before we had finished 



Page 15 HARDKNOCKS 

eating he came in, whooping and yelling in true Indian 
fashion and said to Hugh: "Don't you know that you 
can be arrested for bringing whiskey into the Indian 
Territory ? Now if you don't give me some more, I'll 
have both of you arrested." Such is Indian gratitude. 

I was badly frightened and expected every moment 
to see Hugh shoot him, but instead, Hugh was very 
mild and told the Indian he had no more with him. He 
even went so far as to open his shirt front and bundle 
of blankets, in order to convince the Indian he was 
telling the truth. I was disgusted with my companion. 
I supposed that Hugh, being an old Indian fighter, 
would surely kill this red-skin on the spot. Presently 
the Indian, seemingly satisfied that Hugh was not de- 
ceiving him, mounted his horse and went back down 
the road, yelling like mad. 

We gathered up our blankets and started on our 
way, Hugh acting in a very sullen manner. After a 
little he said to me : "If it had not been for that Indian 
squaw, I would have killed him, dead sure." This raised 
Hugh a notch in my estimation, as I was beginning to 
think that he was not the ideal of my dime-novel edu- 
cation. 

We trudged on until sundown, when we stopped 
for the night under a large oak tree. Hugh lighted 
the fire, — just as I had read in the novels, — spread out 
the blankets, and we laid down to sleep. This was my 
first night on the frontier. Sleep for me was impos- 
sible. When darkness came, a feeling of home-sick- 
ness came over me, and oh ! how I wished myself back 
at home in my nice, clean bed. I fell to thinking of 
father, mother, sisters, brothers — ran the gamut of 
my friends and acquaintances in the old town and 
wondered what each was doing just then. I choked 
down many sobs that night, for I did not want Hugh 
to think I was not game. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 16 

At this time I was well dressed and was wearing 
low cut shoes, called Oxford ties. The heels were very 
high and were almost under the instep, and from that 
one day's walking in the hot sun and sand, my shoes 
were runover to one side and my feet very sore. 

Morning came at last. The birds began to sing and 
Nature was awake again for another day. Hugh 
awoke, and after stretching himself and yawning a 
time or two, said : "Well, my boy ! How do you feel ?" 

"Pretty good," I replied, "except that my feet are 
very sore." 

He then took me to a spring close by and I bathed 
my feet, which helped greatly. We rolled up the 
blankets and ate some crackers and cold meat, which 
Hugh had brought along. It had never occurred to me 
how we were going to get any food, but I found out 
very soon. We trudged along until three o'clock in 
the afternoon, when we came to a house by the road- 
side. Hugh told me to go over and ask for something 
to eat, as neither of us had any money. I did not want 
to go and informed him that I had never begged in 
my life. 

"You'll get used to that, my boy, before you're as 
old as I !" was his reply. 

I summed up courage, choked down my pride, and 
knocked hard on the door, which was opened by a 
black squaw. I asked her for something to eat. She 
didn't seem to understand I was asking for food, so I 
began to make signs. These, too, were without avail; 
and so, neither of us being able to speak the other's 
tongue, the attempt was a failure and resulted in 
having the door shut in my face with a bang. I started 
back to Hugh, feeling very downcast at my unsuccess- 
ful appeal for food. On my way back, however, I 
noticed an old-fashioned cheese press with a cheese 
under it and a large stone on top for pressing. While 



Page 17 HARDKNOCKS 

watching the house closely to see if I was observed, I 
went to the press and stole the cheese, — my first theft. 
But I know, dear reader, you will forgive me this bit 
of wrong-doing ; as one, when hungry, dead broke, and 
utterly unable to speak Cherokee, will do almost any- 
thing to secure something to eat. 

Walking on about four miles, we came to a spring 
where we concluded to camp for the night. We ate 
the cheese and drank the spring water to wash it down, 
and, as a result, neither of us slept very much that 
night. Although a rather slim supper, the "quality" 
was there, and, consequently, we dreamed of every- 
thing imaginable during the little time we slept. 

When morning came, we started on, and after a 
walk of an hour or so, arrived at a stage station kept 
by an old Irishman, with a heart as big as a barrel. 
He had just gotten up and greeted us with: "Top av 
the marnin to yez; ye air out early." 

"Yes," my companion replied, "and very hungry at 
that." We were offered breakfast, which, however, had 
a string attached to it in the shape of a woodpile. 

"Now, bhoys," said the Irishman, "here is a fine 
axe ; chop me a bit of wood, and yez shall have a f oine 
meal." 

Hugh, being a fine axeman, we soon completed our 
task, Hugh doing the chopping and I carrying it in. 
Presently, breakfast was ready. The Irishman called 
us in and said : "Bhoys, ye're all right. Sit down and 
fill up; there's some venison." 

I had not the remotest idea of what he meant by 
venison, and presently asked Hugh what it was. 

"Deer meat, my boy," was his reply. 

How delighted I was at the thought of eating my 
first wild game. Now I knew that all I had read in the 
dime novels was true. Before leaving, the Hibernian, 



HARD KNOCKS Page 18 

noticing that I limped, gave me some coal oil with 
which to bathe my feet, and which helped them 
wonderfully. He also gave us food enough to last us 
two days, and told us we would find another stage 
station twenty-five miles farther on. 

We started; I was satisfied with the world and 
everything in it. My feeling of home-sickness was en- 
tirely gone. About two o'clock in the afternoon we 
were still traveling when, on looking a short distance 
to one side of the road, I saw about a dozen turkej'^s. 

"Hugh!" I exclaimed, "there are some turkeys; 
there must be a house near by." 

"Hush!" he said, "those are wild turkeys." And 
before I could regain my senses, he dropped on one 
knee and fired. Down fell the largest bird, and unable 
to contain myself, I rushed after it and carried it back 
to Hugh in triumph. 

"Pretty good shot. Turkey for supper tonight," 
said Hugh, as he reloaded his gun. One can imagine 
my admiration for him the remainder of the after- 
noon. I set him up for my hero, and to this day can 
see him walking ahead of me, I carrying the turkey. 
Hugh was a great walker, and kept me busy keeping 
up with him. I thought him the greatest man in the 
world, and that if some day I could be like him, the 
height of my ambition would be reached. 

On arriving at the stage station, we ate the food 
furnished by our friend at the last station. After a 
good night's rest in the hayloft, we had turkey — roast 
turkey — for breakfast. We helped about the place, re- 
maining all day that day to rest and finish up that 
turkey. We were well treated there, and I for one was 
loath to leave the place. Hugh entertained me all the 
while with accounts of his adventures with Indians and 
wild animals. How I admired that man! Why, 1 
would have died for him any moment. 



Page 19 HARDKNOCKS 

To me, our next day's journey was not so hard, as 
we were in the timber all day. We were protected 
from the rays of the sun and the sand was not as hot 
as it was at first. The woods were filled with wild 
doves, and to me their cooing was so sad that it made 
me homesick to hear them. 

"Why don't you shoot some of them, Hugh?" I 
asked. 

He looked at me in disgust. "Wait until we find 
some larger game, my boy," he replied. "We are al- 
most out of the settlements and ought to get a shot at 
a deer soon." The thought of it thrilled me and I kept 
a good lookout, but saw no deer. We arrived at the 
third station about dark, but there the keeper was 
not so friendly as the others we had passed. After 
some talk, however, he thawed out and we found him 
to be a pretty good fellow. We trudged on again next 
day, stopping at another station that night. The fol- 
lowing night we arrived at Fort Gibson. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 20 



CHAPTER III. 

OUR WELL-TAGGED BAGGAGE— DESERTED— "TENDER- 
FOOT"— A STRANGE OFFER OF MARRIAGE— THE 
INDIAN ENGINEERING PARTY— AN OLD FRIEND— A 
HORRIBLE PRACTICAL JOKE. 

ON our arrival, we went to the hotel. Before 
entering, Hugh reminded me that he had 
no money, and advised me to say nothing 
about it while we were in the hotel. He 
boldly registered our names, and, as the 
stage office was in the hotel, he asked if our baggage 
had been left there by the stage. 

"Yes," the clerk replied, producing it; mine, with 
a tag attached calling for four dollars, and Hugh's 
for three dollars. 

The next morning Hugh informed me that he was 
going out on the grade to look for a job as bridge car- 
penter. The Missouri, Kansas & Texas Railroad was 
then grading its road about four miles west of Fort 
Gibson. Heretofore, I had supposed that the occupa- 
tion of Indian fighters consisted entirely of hunting, 
trapping and slaying Indians, and was correspondingly 
disappointed in my hero on being told by him that he 
was going to work. We left the hotel early in the 
morning without settling our bills, and had walked 
about two miles, when we arrived at a spring, to the 
north of which was a wooded canyon. At this point 
Hugh left me, saying he was going into the brush to 
cut a couple of walking sticks, and requested that I 
wait where I was until he returned. After waiting 
about an hour, I began to think that some wild 
animal had eaten him. I was considerably frightened, 
and halooed to him. Receiving no response, I went 
up to the top of a near-by ridge, and from there saw 
the railroad graders at work. I ran to them in great 



Page 21 HARDKNOCKS 

trepidation and told them that my partner was miss- 
ing, and that I thought he had been eaten by wild 
animals. They burst into a hearty laugh. 

"Here is another tenderfoot," was their only reply. 
The expression "tenderfoot," I had never heard be- 
fore, and I naturally thought the graders referred to 
my feet, which were very sore and tender and I felt 
that had they walked as far as I, their feet would 
have been in a like condition. Sometime afterward 
I learned the term applied not to one's feet, but was 
a common expression for a "greenhorn" in the 
country. 

I asked the graders for work, but was refused. 
Then I returned to the hotel hoping to find or hear 
something of Hugh, but was told they had not seen 
him, so I came to the conclusion that he had deserted 
me. I was homesick and heartbroken, and my am- 
bition vanished — "great Indian fighters existed not in 
reality, but on paper only." 

I concluded that as I was alone I would go back 
to Fort Smith, and asked the hotel man for my carpet 
bag. He refused, however, to let me have it until I 
paid him six dollars — two for the hotel and four for 
the stage company; and no amount of pleading on 
my part could soften his heart or change his decision. 
Crestfallen, I departed from the hotel minus my 
carpet bag; arriving at the first stage station that 
night, footsore, weary, and discouraged. The station- 
man took me in, giving me a good meal, and I enjoyed 
a good night's rest. The next morning he offered to 
engage me to dig potatoes for him, for which he 
agreed to pay me fifty cents a day and my board and 
lodging. 

Here was the turning point in my career. I had 
arrived at this station the previous evening with the 
firm resolve to return to home and friends ; the ardor 



HARD KNOCKS Page 22 

of western adventures had undergone a severe shock, 
and was at a decidedly low ebb. The ideals in which, 
in my boyish fancy, I had placed so much confidence, 
had completely vanished, and unpleasant memories 
alone remained with me for comfort and consolation. 
However, I felt induced to accept the offer of the 
station-man and for two weeks worked for him, 
digging potatoes. 

During this time I had gradually gained courage 
and my adventurous spirit was again in the ascend- 
ancy. My efforts and diligence evidently met with 
favor in the eyes of my employer, for one day he 
called me into his room and asked me how I liked the 
country. 

"Fairly well," I replied. 

"Well," he rejoined, "do you want to become a 
rich man? If so, I will tell you how." 

I looked at him without speaking, and he went on: 
"As you know, my wife is a Cherokee, and she has a 
sister just your age who has seen you and likes you. 
Her mother, who lives on the hill yonder, owns many 
head of cattle and horses, and a great deal of com 
land, all under cultivation. She is old now, and when 
she dies the girl and my wife will get it all. There 
is a white man working for her mother who has 
been trying to marry the girl, but she prefers you 
and wants to meet you and will be here in the 
morning. I will do the talking for both, and can fix 
it up in a few minutes; then you can go to Fort 
Gibson and be married." 

This man, Pat, was a big-hearted Irishman and 
meant well, but as for my getting married — well, I 
was not exactly in the mood for discussing matters 
of that nature just then. 

True to the Irishman's word, the girl came the 
next day. She was astride a horse, bare back, and 



Page 23 HARDKNOCKS 

with only a rope loop in the horse's mouth for a 
bridle. She was a well-formed girl, but I could not 
fancy her for a wife, particularly for my wife. The 
Irishman talked to her in her native tongue (Chero- 
kee) and then to me in English, but as I did not care 
to offend either of them, I told him I would think it 
over that night. He urged me to decide quickly be- 
fore the other white man could secure the prize. 

Later in the day a surveying party came into the 
station. It consisted of the chief and twenty-one men 
and two four-mule teams, and was engaged in running 
a railroad survey from Fort Smith, Arkansas, to 
connect with the main line of the Atlantic & Pacific 
Railway at Antelope Hills, three hundred miles south. 
After the party had camped in front of the station, 
the chief came in to obtain provisions, and they had 
a guide to take them through the Cherokee country, 
as it was difficult to find camping places. While in 
conversation with my Irish friend, the chief gave 
his name as Mr. Innes. My heart leaped into my 
mouth, for I remembered a Mr. Innes who was City 
Engineer in my home town. After he had made 
some purchases, I followed him out and asked him if 
he ever lived in Cape Vincent, New York. 

"Bom and raised there," was his reply. 

"Then you must know my father, Captain Young ?" 

"Well, I should say I do," he ejaculated. "But 
what under the sun ever brought you into this 
country ?" 

"Don't know," I replied, ashamed to acknowledge 
that the little yellow covered novels were the cause 
of it. He took me over to his camp and talked to me 
for an hour, finally saying: "I can't let the son of an 
old schoolmate run wild out here. I don't really 
need any more help, but will put you on the pay roll 
at forty dollars per month, and your duties will be 
to carry the lunch bucket and give the transit man 



HARD KNOCKS Page 24 

a back sight when he moves on ahead, and assist in 
making and numbering stakes when necessary." 

Of course, this was all Greek to me, but I was to 
get away from that young squaw and had found my 
father's friend, and so was extremely happy. I re- 
lated to my new friend the troubles I had been having 
about my carpet bag, and showed him my shoes; or 
rather, what was left of them, for they were almost 
gone. The next day he sent a man on horseback to 
Fort Gibson with six dollars to pay the charges on 
my carpet bag; and to my great joy, he returned 
with it. 

We camped here for three days, and in the mean- 
time Mr. Innes went over to a store on the north 
side of the river and purchased a pair of boots for 
me. They were about two sizes too large, but it was 
the best he could do. The old Irishman paid me what 
he owed me before we left. He was very much dis- 
appointed at the thought of losing a prospective 
brother-in-law, and I suppose that my would-be bride 
was almost heartbroken. I have seen neither of 
them since. 

Many times since then I pondered over my ex- 
treme good fortune in unwittingly eluding the trap 
set for me by that wily Irish station-man. Shortly 
after our departure he erected a large building and 
entered into a co-operative plan with the Cherokees of 
that vicinity, which proved disastrous to them. The 
agreement entered into was to the effect that the 
Cherokees were each to contribute a certain number 
of Cherokee cattle, which the Irishman was to take 
to Kansas City, exchange same for staple products 
to be sold at the Co-Operative Store, and all share 
in the profits. They filled thirty cars with these cattle, 
and Pat took them to Kansas City, realized a fabulous 
sum and departed for parts unknown. Ever after 
his departure Pat was but a passing memory to his 



Page 25 HARDKNOCKS 

faithful Cherokee wife and all who knew him. This 
base deception made a lasting impression on the 
Cherokees, who up to this time had intermarried 
with the whites. For a long time afterward, they 
looked on every white man with supreme disgust and 
contempt. 

We left there under the guidance of an Indian, 
furnished us by the old Irishman. This guide made 
himself generally useful, in more ways than one. He 
was thoroughly familiar with the various waterholes, 
and without him we would certainly have fared badly. 

Being a tenderfoot, I was the butt of all the jokes 
played in the camp by those twenty-one men, and 
Mr. Innes was as bad as any of them. On my 
second day with the outfit they played a horrible 
practical joke on me. That is, it was horrible as far 
as I was concerned. 

The four-mule teams were in charge of a character 
who was known by the name of "California Jack." 
This man was noted as a practical joker and was 
particularly fond of telling stories of early hfe in 
California in which he had centered as the principal 
figure. 

At night we slept side by side in a large tent, using 
our blankets for bedding, and with our feet toward 
the entrance. Before we went to sleep that night, 
"California Jack" told a most dreadful snake story. 
He said that once, while in California, he and two 
others were asleep in a tent, just as we were, when 
a rattle-snake crawled under one of the boy's blankets 
and coiled himself up on the boy's breast, and he knew 
that if he moved, the snake would bite him, which 
meant certain death, and that the only way to save 
his life was to keep perfectly still until the snake 
had its sleep out. According to the teamster's story, 
the snake crawled away after a while, but the boy's 
scare was so great that he died of fright within ten 
minutes after the snake left his breast, and was 



HARD KNOCKS Page 26 

buried the next day. "And it is a strange fact," 
added Jack, "that snakes seem to know boys. Many 
times in Cahfomia I have known them to attack boys 
and yet never bother men." 

"Oh, let us go to sleep," interrupted the other 
men. "We have to get up early." 

In a few minutes all of them were apparently 
sound asleep, when I felt something slimy touch my 
bare leg. Up it crawled to my breast. I thought of 
Jack's warning and kept still, but oh, how frightened 
I was. I thought I would die. Presently, I could 
stand it no longer, and jumped clear over the two men 
who were sleeping on my left. Everyone sprang up 
and wanted to know what the matter was. "Snakes !" 
was all I could say. 

"Oh, you are dreaming," they replied. 

"No," I persisted, "I saw him, and he was ten 
feet long." 

"Yes," added Jack, "they grow that long in this 
country." We then shook all the blankets, but find- 
ing nothing, concluded that the snake had escaped 
through one of the openings. 

We all laid down again, but there was no more 
sleep for me. I was on the lookout for snakes. In a 
few minutes everyone was snoring once more, when 
again I felt that slimy snake crawling up my bare 
leg. I stood it as long as I could, then grabbed for 
it and, as I supposed, caught it by the head. 

"Wake up, boys !" I yelled. "I have him!" Every- 
one jumped up — Jack telling me to hold the snake 
fast while he lighted a candle. I looked at the 
supposed snake and discovered that it was only a 
cattail ; a kind of weed or rush that grows in swamps. 
Jack had dampened the head or top of it, and it was 
he who was doing the trick. All laughed, and that 
ended the fun. 



Page 27 HARDKNOCKS 

It is a fact, however, that it was a bad country 
for snakes. There was also a large cricket in that 
part of the country, which made a noise exactly like 
a rattlesnake and which startled me very often, to 
the great amusement of the boys. The transition 
from "tenderfoot" to the state of stolidity, which 
gradually relieved me from the position of being the 
butt of others' jokes, though gradual, was in due 
time accomplished. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 28 



CHAPTER IV. 

IN THE CREEK INDIAN COUNTRY— THE SEMINOLES— 
THE SAC AND FOX INDIANS— ONCE MORE A VICTIM 
—CARRIED OFF BY A NAKED INDIAN— THE SHAW- 
NESS— ATLANTIC & PACIFIC RAILWAY SURVEY— 
"BILL HENDERSON," THE HALF-BREED — FIRST 
CATTLE HERDING— LOST ON THE RANGE. 

WE worked in this vicinity for a while, and 
later went into the Creek Indian country. 
The Creeks, like the Cherokees, were 
civilized, and had good houses and 
schools. We next struck the Seminoles. 
These Indians were crossed to a great extent with 
the Negroes, as before the war a great many Creeks 
and Seminoles owned slaves. They intermarried with 
the squaws, producing very dark offspring. We 
encountered the Sac and Fox Indians on our next 
move. This tribe was at that time blanket Indians 
and of fine physique, many of them being six feet in 
height. A few of them exceeding even this mark. 
They lived in lodges made of the skins of elks and 
other animals, and had their faces painted in various 
colors. Many of them are now immensely wealthy, 
through the recent discovery of oil on their land. 
This was my first sight of real blanket Indians, and 
I found, much to my surprise, that they were not 
warhke at all, but were frightful beggars. It was 
here again that I began to think that dime novels 
had not told me the truth. We changed guides at 
each Indian tribe, as each guide went with us through 
his own country only. 

I dared not tell any of the boys that I had run 
away from home for the purpose of fighting Indians, 
for fear that they would laugh at me. I, however, 
gi-ew wiser from day to day, and, as I attained 



Page 29 HARDKNOCKS 

further wisdom, it became more and more difficult 
for them to play tricks upon me. Although I had 
been progressing in this line, the boys assisted by 
the Indian guide, did play another trick upon me, 
while in the Sac and Fox country. 

Just before we left the line in the evening to go 
into camp, Mr. Innes asked me to go back about a 
mile and look at a certain stake. To do this, I had 
to go across a low place, out of sight of the other 
boys. To my surprise, I was stopped by an Indian, 
who was painted and almost naked. He rushed at 
me, caught me by the arm, and with his foot lifted 
me up before him on his pony, and yelling as only 
an Indian can yell, rapidly rode off with me. I wanted 
to yell myself, but was too frightened to do so. How- 
ever, this was scarcely necessary, for the Indian made 
enough of that kind of noise to answer for both. I 
fought hard to escape from him, but all to no purpose. 
The reader can imagine my feelings, as I had every 
reason to believe that I had been made a captive by 
the savage. Dime novels had told the truth, after all. 

We rode for some time, and presently came in 
sight of the camp. There were the boys, waving 
their hats and laughing. It was the guide, disguised, 
who had played the trick on me; to say I was re- 
lieved, would be putting it mildly. 

We next entered the domain of the Shawness, but 
they would not permit us to pass through their 
country. Mr. Innes met them at a council held under 
a large clump of oak trees, at which all the Indians 
wore their blankets, and were painted in their war 
colors. To me it was a great sight. Mr. Innes, 
through an interpreter furnished by their agent, in- 
formed them that he and his party were only looking 
through the country by request of the Great Father 
in Washington. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 30 

"No," they replied. "You can go no farther; you 
are bad men and must go back." Mr. Innes then 
attempted to bluff them, by telling them he would 
send for the soldiers, but all to no avail. And after 
a three days' council, we started back to the nearest 
town — Prairie City, the then terminus of the Atlantic 
& Pacific Railroad. We had been out for four months, 
and on our return, were paid off, and the party dis- 
banded. I heard later that Mr. Innes continued the 
work the following year, under escort of cavalry. 

In company with Frank Emmons, one of the 
party, we walked to Fort Gibson, where I again in- 
quired for my friend Hugh, but found no one who 
knew anything of him. 

The following day we left Fort Gibson and walked 
to Chetopa, Kansas — the then terminus of the Mis- 
souri, Kansas & Texas Railway. Here that road 
entered the Cherokee Territory. After spending our 
money, we went south six miles in search of work. 
Later, we were employed to pitch hay for "Bill" 
Henderson, a half breed Cherokee, and a veritable 
devil when he was under the influence of liquor. A 
company of St. Louis people had leased his wild hay 
land, paying him so much per acre for the privilege 
of cutting the hay, which, after cutting, was stacked, 
baled and shipped to St. Louis. I became quite expert 
in the work, but later on had some trouble with the 
boss and quit. I was indeed fortunate, being the 
only one who received pay for labor done, as the 
company became insolvent and none of the others 
received a cent of wages. There was no recourse, 
as the hay was in the Indian Territory and could not 
be held for amounts due. On severing my connection 
with Henderson, I returned to Chetopa. There I met 
a Mr. Pancake, who owned some eight hundred head 
of cattle, which he had driven from Texas, and who 
hired me as a herder. Of course, in this work it was 



Page 31 HARDKNOCKS 

necessary for me to ride a horse, which was a new 
experience. The horse and saddle supplied me, I 
looked on with some misgivings, as I dared not tell 
Mr. Pancake that I had never ridden a horse, and 
waited until he was out of sight before attempting 
to mount. Although it was but twenty miles to the 
herd, I believe I rode twice that distance before 
reaching there. I made the resolve that if I wanted to 
hold that job, I must learn to ride, and I did, but 
how sore I was the next morning ! 

I shall never forget the first night I was sent out 
on guard. In those days we stood two hours' watch 
in the night, riding around the cattle while they were 
"bedded" down, and singing to them most of the time. 
My saddle horse was not a cow pony, but an Indian 
pony which Mr. Pancake had purchased in the Indian 
Territory. After I had ridden around the cattle for 
a while, I began to doze. Presently I looked to my 
right, but could not see the cattle. The night was 
dark, and my pony had strayed away. Had he been 
a cow pony, he would have stayed with the herd, as 
they are used to cattle. I tried to find them, but 
being unsuccessful, began to shout, hoping that the 
boys in camp would hear me. I rode for some time, 
and finally concluded that I was lost. I stopped my 
tired pony and hobbled him with the bridle rein, as 
I had no lariat. Using the saddle for a pillow, and 
covering myself with the saddle blanket, I attempted 
to sleep, but without success. What troubled me most 
was, the thought that I had the boss' gold watch, 
which he loaned to each herder that he might know 
the time to call the relief. I was sure they would 
miss me and think that I had run away with the pony 
and watch. I found out later that my surmise was 
correct. 

When daylight came, I saw a campfire in the 
distance. Riding over, I found a negro cook pre- 



HARD KNOCKS Page 32 

paring the morning meal and told him that I was 
looking for Pancake's herd, but did not tell him I 
was lost. "Well," he rephed, "you are a long way 
from it. They are camped on Pond Creek, eight 
miles southeast of here." After taking breakfast 
with him, I started for the herd, and arrived there 
in due time. Four of the boys were out looking for 
me, supposing that I had run away with the watch 
and pony. When I explained the situation to the 
boss, he blamed the Indian pony for all the trouble. 
This reheved me very much. 

These cattle had just arrived from Texas over the 
Chisholm trail and were being kept here to rest and 
fatten, after which they were to be sold and shipped 
east by rail. A period of three months was usually 
required to make the drive from Texas. 

I had been with Mr. Pancake about a month, 
when a man named Hamilton, from Arkansas City, 
Kansas, bought two hundred head of stock cattle out 
of the herd, and employed a Mr. Sutherland to help 
care for them. Mr. Sutherland and his wife camped 
near. They were from Texas and were looking for 
Government land, and had a wagon and four head of 
horses. 

Mr. Sutherland engaged me to go with him. Ham- 
ilton, who later proved to be a perfect devil, bought 
a pair of gentle oxen and hitched them to the wagon. 
We rode the horses and drove the cattle. We had 
not been out many days, when the two men quarreled 
and had it not been for Mrs. Sutherland, Hamilton 
would surely have been killed, as Sutherland, having 
a violent temper, had already killed two men in Texas 
some time previously. For that reason he had been 
compelled to leave there. Three nights after the 
trouble between Hamilton and Sutherland, two horse 
thieves traveling through the country, plying their 
vocation, stole our horses and we had no alternative 



Page 33 HARDKNOCKS 

but to follow them on foot. Sutherland having spent 
his entire life on the frontier of Texas, was a wonder- 
ful trailer, and by signs and foot prints, with which 
he was thoroughly accustomed, accomplished what 
to me seemed an utter impossibility. Taking with 
us sufficient food to provide against hunger, we walked 
for three days, at the end of which time we dis- 
covered our horses in an open cornfield. Sutherland 
ordered me to keep quiet, suggesting I lie down in 
the grass and rest. I asked him, "Why not go and get 
the horses?" He replied: "Do as I tell you. I will 
attend to the horses." This I did, and was soon 
curled up in the grass fast asleep. Suddenly I was 
awakened by two rapid gun shots, and I jumped up 
and ran over to Sutherland, who said to me: "Remain 
here, and I will go over and get the horses; those 
horse thieves will never bother any one again." 
Sutherland left me and shortly returned with the 
horses, two six-shooters, a Henry rifle (the first I 
had ever seen), and considerable ammunition. He 
presented me with one of the six-shooters. I was 
naturally proud of this six-shooter, as I had never 
had one of my own, and used it until the cartridge 
pistol came into use. We then returned to the camp, 
where we were welcomed by Hamilton and Mrs. 
Sutherland, who were nearly worn out by herding the 
cattle on foot in our absence. Seeing the extra gun 
and six-shooters, Hamilton asked Sutherland where 
he got them. Sutherland replied in a very cool and 
unconcerned manner: "Oh, I borrowed them from a 
couple of friends of mine." 

From that time, I never knew Sutherland to 
mention the matter again, but am satisfied that he 
killed both horse thieves. 

You must bear in mind, dear reader, that these 
events transpired in 1866, at which time wrongs and 
grievances, fancied and real, were avenged not by 



HARD KNOCKS Page 34 

a court of justice, but by the principals, in their 
rough, stem way. This was the only known and 
recognized law in that country at that time and for 
years to come. 

After many hardships, we arrived at Hamilton's 
ranch, near Arkansas City. Here we received our 
wages, and after another quarrel with Hamilton, we 
went south, to what was then known as the Cherokee 
Strip. 



Page 35 HARDKNOCKS 



CHAPTER V. 

THE CHEROKEE STRIP— A SQUATTER— OUSTED BY 
UNCLE SAM— UNWELCOME VISITORS— THE BANK 
ROBBERS— MY HAIR TRIGGER RIFLE— WITH THE 
OSAGE INDIANS— BUCKETS OF REAL SNAKES— BIG 
FIGHT BETWEEN LONG AND SHORT HORNS, AT 
NEWTON, KANSAS. 

I WILL here present to you items of interest per- 
taining to the Cherokee Strip, including many 
stirring incidents which have from time to time 
been a matter of public record. The Strip was 
a piece of land owned by the Cherokee Indians, 
about one hundred miles square. It adjoined Howard 
County, Kansas, five miles south of the town of Elgin. 
I afterward heard that Howard County had been sub- 
divided by the Government, and a portion of it called 
Elk County. 

A report gained currency that the United States 
Government intended buying this strip and allowing 
160 acres to each person having homestead or squatter 
rights. Sutherland and I concluded to make a loca- 
tion, and accordingly, settled ourselves on adjoining 
pieces of land, but lived together. In the meantime, 
the Osage Indians sold their lands in Kansas and 
bought this strip from the Cherokees, before the 
Government had concluded the deal. When they came 
to take possession of it, they discovered that it had 
been taken up by the white people. The houses which 
we had built were of logs cut off the ridges, where 
post oak grew plentifully. The houses were without 
floors. The cooking was done in old-fashioned fire- 
places. The houses were few and far between; this 
being particularly true of the section where we lived. 

One clear, moonlight night we were suddenly awak- 
ened by a loud rapping. I opened the door, while Mr. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 36 

Sutherland stood just to one side with his Spencer 
carbine ready for instant use. There I found three 
mounted men, all armed to the teeth, and the hardest 
looking trio I ever saw. After asking who lived there, 
they wanted to know if I were alone. 

"No," I answered, "Mr. Sutherland and wife are 
here." Whereupon Sutherland stepped out from his 
hiding place. 

We were instructed by the unwelcome visitors that 
they wanted something to eat at once. I was ordered 
to take their horses to the corral and feed them, which 
I did. Although it was nearly midnight, they com- 
pelled Mrs. Sutherland to get up and prepare them 
something to eat. One of their number, with gun in 
hand, remained on guard on the outside and after the 
other two had eaten, he came in and partook of the 
food. When all had eaten, they went to the corral 
where they spent the remainder of the night sleeping, 
each taking turns at guard duty. At daylight they 
came back to the house and the spokesman asked us 
if we had any money. We told him "No," as we had 
not yet raised a crop. 

"Well," he said, handing me three twenty-dollar 
greenbacks, "we will stake you. Give the man and 
the woman one each and keep the other for yourself." 

They then asked: "Does anyone live in that 
house yonder?" pointing to a house about two miles 
distant. 

"Yes," I replied; "Mr. Kruger Hves there." 

"Has he any horses?" 

"Yes, four head." 

Whereupon they saddled up and left, we noticing 
that their horses had a tired and jaded appearance. 
In about two hours, Kruger came to our house with 
his head bandaged up, and said that one of the men 



Page 37 HARDKNOCKS 

had struck him with a six-shooter. Kruger was a 
contrary German, and, having served in the army, 
thought that he was king of the earth. He probably 
became saucy when they wanted to trade horses with 
him. They accordingly clubbed him, took three of 
his best animals, and left their own in place of them. 
Had he used better judgment under the conditions, he 
might have made a good trade with them. He wanted 
us to go with him and try to recover his horses, and 
became very angry when we refused to do so. 

Three days later a sheriff with three deputies, 
in pursuit of these men, arrived at our cabin and 
made inquiries concerning them. We informed them 
that three men had stopped over night with us and 
had gone on, heading west. They then proceeded 
on their way but returned the following day, having 
evidently given up the chase, and informed us that 
the men they were hunting were outlaws who robbed 
a bank in Parsons, Kansas, killing two men who had 
attempted to arrest them. The sheriff and his deputies 
remained with us over night, departing early in the 
morning. We were careful not to tell them that the 
outlaws had given us any money. The next day 
Sutherland and I went to town and bought many 
necessaries in the way of clothing, groceries, etc. The 
storekeeper expressed considerable surprise when we 
handed him our greenbacks, as this form of money in 
that country was very scarce in those days. 

One bright morning not long after these events, 
Sutherland and I went together on a deer hunt; he 
took his Spencer carbine, and I borrowed a heavy 
muzzle-loading rifle, equipped with a set trigger. I 
was now to have my first experience at deer hunting. 

Sutherland proceeded with caution along the top 
of a ridge or hill, and I along the foot. I had not 
gone far when I saw three deer pawing in the snow, 
looking for acorns. They had not seen me, and I 



HARD KNOCKS Page 38 

quickly decided that here was the chance to secure 
my first deer. Unfortunately, while in the act of 
taking aim, I unconsciously touched the set-trigger, 
resulting in the load going off in the ground about 
ten feet from me. Hearing the shot, Mr. Sutherland 
ran down and asked me if I had hit a deer. Not 
wanting him to know that my rifle had been dis- 
charged accidentally, I rephed: "Yes, I hit him." 
Whereupon he began to search, but no deer could be 
found. Mr. Sutherland scolded me severely for my 
poor marksmanship, and we returned home with- 
out any game. 

In the meantime, the Osages promptly appealed 
to the government, and the latter notified us to 
vacate. We refused, as we had improved the land 
to a large extent by building rail fences, log houses, 
etc. The government then sent troops and six-mule 
teams there and moved us across the line into Kansas, 
giving the Osages peaceful possession. This was, of 
course, just, although we did not consider it so at 
the time. 

In the spring of 1867 the Osage Indians established 
their new agency forty miles south of the Kansas line. 
The location selected was at the base of a rocky hill, 
which was infested with thousands of snakes. While 
digging a well, it was our custom every morning 
to lower a man in a bucket to the bottom. This was 
for the purpose of killing snakes that had fallen into 
the opening during the night. 

There were twenty white men employed on this 
agency, and the agent had selected an Indian by the 
name of "Red Feather," who was to keep us supplied 
with deer meat. One day, the agency's interpreter, 
who was a white man, asked Red Feather how it 
happened that he always had a full supply of venison. 
Red Feather replied : "Some time I catch um deer and 
some time dog; white man don't know." For a time 



Page 39 HARDKNOCKS 

the interpeter kept this information to himself, but 
finally, it being too rich to keep, told us. Our feelings 
can be better imagined than described. Suffice to 
say that Red Feather had his contract cancelled on 
very short notice, and our fondness for deer meat 
vanished. For a long time afterward, we could not 
bear the mention of it. 

Finally, becoming tired of agency life, and my 
roving disposition as I thought requiring a change, 
I started for the new town of Wichita, Kansas, which 
at that time was a shipping point for Texas cattle. 
I remained there but a short time. From Wichita 
I went to Newton, Kansas — then the terminus of the 
Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad, and one of the 
wildest towns in the state, Newton was a rendezvous 
for gamblers and "sure-thing" men. There were 
numerous saloons and two large dance halls, a few 
merchandise stores and a hotel. At this particular 
time, the female element consisted entirely of dance- 
hall girls. The majority of the male population were, 
what were then termed, gun-fighters; the six-shooter 
being the only recognized law there at that time. 

Here I witnessed one of the most noted gun fights 
that ever took place in the West. The fight was 
between Kansas and Texas desperadoes. It occurred 
in Tim Shea's dance-hall, and was a pre-arranged 
affair. The Texicans had visited the town some five 
days prior to this and ran things to suit themselves. 
They then sent word that they were coming back on 
a certain night and proposed to duplicate the act. 
Tim Shea gathered together about thirty Kansas 
gun-men whom he knew and could depend upon. True 
to their threat, the Texicans arrived on the appointed 
night. Shea, hearing them coming, stationed his men 
at the rear of the dance-hall ; the Texicans riding up 
to the front, entered the door, yelling and shooting 
off their guns. Shea's men rushed in the back door, 



HARD KNOCKS Page 40 

and the shooting began. The lights were shot out, 
all was darkness, and the entire thing was over in 
fifteen minutes. When the lamps were relighted, 
fourteen were found lying dead on the floor, but the 
number of wounded will never be known. One of 
the dance-hall girls was wounded in the right eye, 
and ever afterward was known as "One-eyed Molly." 
Few, if any, who took part in that fight are alive 
today. I will give you the names of a few of the 
prominent ones: Matt Reilly, Billy Brooks, Tim Shea, 
Lushey Bill, Chris Gilson, Tom Sherman, Pony Spen- 
cer. There were others whose names I cannot recall. 

From Newton, I followed the extension of the 
Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad to the next 
terminus, which was Laraerd, Kansas. 



Page 41 HARDKNOCKS 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE SANTE FE'S EXTENSION WEST— THE KANSAS PA- 
CIFIC MAN-KILLING CELEBRETIES— "WILD BILL" OF 
HAYES CITY— GREEN RIVER SMITH— PHIL COLE'S 
FRUITLESS TACTICS— KANSAS BUFFALO— THE BUF- 
FALO EXTERMINATED IN TWO YEARS. 

THERE was probably no railroad extension 
westward ever marked by more lawlessness 
than was that of the Atchison, Topeka & 
Santa Fe. The next terminus was Dodge 
City, two miles west of Fort Dodge, and of 
which I will speak later. 

Leaving Lamerd, I concluded to go northward to 
Hayes City, which at that time was the terminus of 
the Kansas Pacific Railroad, now a part of the Union 
Pacific system. It was there that I first met J. B. 
Hickok, better known as "Wild Bill." Bill was mar- 
shal of Hays City. 

A good many stories have been written from time 
to time of this character. Wild Bill, but I am sure 
none will prove of more interest to the reader than 
that which I am about to relate. From the time of 
our first meeting in Hayes City, my remarks are 
based on personal knowledge and contact with him, 
dating from the year 1868 when we first met, to the 
time of his death, which occurred in 1876. 

Our first meeting is indelibly impressed upon my 
mind. I had been dancing all night in one of the 
numerous dance-halls of Hayes City, as was the 
almost universal custom in those days of strangers 
looking for pleasure and entertainment. Morning 
found me waiting outside for one of the dance-hall 
girls, for whom I had formed a boyish fancy. The 
night's entertainment had proved costly to me, my 



HARD KNOCKS Page 42 

finances having dwindled from forty dollars to a 
dollar and a half. This extravagance on my part 
had been noted by Wild Bill, unknown to me. As I 
stood on the sidewalk, deliberating, someone touched 
me on the shoulder. I turned, and found myself 
face to face with the finest looking man I have ever 
seen or ever expect to see; a man who excited my 
greatest admiration. He was about six feet, two 
inches in height; perfectly formed and of strong 
physique, and at that time thirty-one years old. He 
had long auburn hair, and clear blue eyes; eyes that 
showed kindness and friendship to all, except the evil 
doer, to whom they meant the reverse. I was naturally 
drawn toward him, and instinctively felt that no 
matter how tough the town or its lawless characters, 
I had met a friend. He asked me where I hailed from 
and I replied: "From the Santa Fe Construction." He 
gave me some very wholesome advice regarding spend- 
ing my money so foolishly and asked me what I was 
doing at Hayes City. I told him I was looking for 
work. After a long pause, during which he appeared 
to be sizing me up, he asked me if I could drive a 
six-mule team. I could not, and frankly told him so. 
He evidently thought I could learn quickly, for he 
took me into a near-by saloon and taught me how to 
tie a Government hame-string. The Government at 
that time used a leather strap with a knot on the end 
of it instead of the buckle and tongue of the present 
day. 

The next morning he went with me to Fort Hayes, 
two and a half miles distant. There we met the 
corral boss, and Wild Bill asked him to put me to 
work, stating that he had taken a fatherly interest in 
me and wanted to see me get along in good shape. The 
corral boss asked if I could drive a six-mule team. To 
which Bill replied: "Yes." A mule collar was thrown 
on the ground and I was told to tie the hames on, 
which I did. He then turned to Bill with a broad 



Page 43 HARDKNOCKS 

grin and remarked, "You have drilled him well." He 
then told me to remain at the post and he would put me 
to work. During the day I got acquainted with some 
of the mule drivers, who showed me how to harness 
a six-mule team. The term used for mule drivers in 
those days was "mule-skinners." The second morning 
Bill came out to see how I was getting along, and to 
his astonishment found me driving a six-mule team. 
He rode by my side for some distance, giving me 
pointers that afterward were very useful to me. I 
worked at this post for six months, during which I 
saw a great deal of Wild Bill, as I was in town nearly 
every night. 

I will now give you this wonderful character's 
life as told to me by Bill himself, at my request three 
months previous to his death in Deadwood. 

Wild Bill was born in Homer, Illinois, in 1837. 
His proper name was James Benson *^ickok. He 
enlisted in the Union Army in 1862, and became a 
spy, operating principally in Missouri at the time 
when General Price of the Confederate Army was 
terrorizing the country with his lawless and merciless 
deeds. Bill's duties as a spy necessitated his con- 
necting himself with General Price's command. As a 
result, he rendered invaluable services to the Union. 
He was discharged in 1865. He then went to Spring- 
field, Missouri, at which place he killed his first man 
in civil life, — a character by the name of Dave Tutt, 
who had served in the Confederate Army and who 
had a great reputation as a gun-fighter. The cir- 
cumstances of this killing, which occurred on July 
28th, 1865, (and were verified by me on the county 
records of Springfield), were as follows: 

On the night previous to July 28th, 1865, Tutt and 
Bill were engaged in a game of cards, in which Bill 
lost all of his ready cash. This resulted in his borrow- 
ing twenty dollars from Tutt and handing him his 



HARD KNOCKS Page 44 

watch as security, the loan to be repaid the follov/ing 
morning. Bill was on hand at the appointed time, 
but when he made a tender of the twenty dollars, Dave 
refused to return the watch, claiming that the 
amount borrowed was forty dollars instead of twenty. 
Bill's indignation was further increased by Dave's 
tantalizing remark that at twelve o'clock he would 
walk across the public square with Bill's watch in his 
pocket. Bill's reply to this insult was: "Sometimes 
dead men wear watches!" Thus the matter ended 
for the time being. Promptly at the stroke of twelve 
o'clock Dave stepped out of the court house, Bill 
approaching from an opposite direction. As they 
spied each other, their hands went instinctively to 
their guns, both quickly realizing that a life must 
pay the forfeit. Bill's aim was steady and true, a 
bullet through Dave's heart being the result, while 
Dave's bullet went harmlessly over Bill's head. Thus 
had Bill's prophecy come true. 

Shortly after this occurrence, Bill left Springfield 
and went to St. Louis, Missouri, where he was em- 
ployed by Ben Holladay, who at that time was oper- 
ating the Overland Stage Line from St. Louis to 
San Francisco. Holladay had suffered no end of trouble 
from gangs of desperadoes who were continually 
holding up his stage coaches, robbing the passengers 
and making off with the Wells Fargo strong box, 
which was carried under contract. 

Foremost among these desperadoes and the most 
feared was the noted McCanless gang. Bill was given 
instructions to exterminate this gang, which consisted 
of nine men. He was asked how many men he would 
require to assist him and replied : "None !" This was 
certainly a good evidence of the man's grit and pluck. 
Leaving St. Louis single handed, he made his initial 
move by going to Rock Springs station on the Cim- 
aron river, arriving at about four o'clock in the 



Page 45 HARDKNOCKS 

afternoon and assuming charge immediately. He had 
been in his new quarters but one hour when McCan- 
less, the leader of the gang, rode up and asked him 
what he was doing there. Bill replied that he was the 
"new station agent." McCanless' response was, that 
if he (Bill) was not away from there within twenty- 
four hours, he would be shipped to St. Louis in a 
box. Bill's reply was that when they returned, they 
would still find him on the job, for he had come to 
stay. True to McCanless' word, the gang did return 
on the following afternoon and gave bill the hardest 
battle of his life. Approaching the station, in which 
Bill was quartered, they opened fire on him, — nine 
men against one. They certainly were hardly pre- 
pared for what was to follow. 

In less time than it takes to write this. Bill had 
shot four of them; but at this critical moment, his 
gun was knocked from his hand. Seizing a knife from 
the belt of McCanless, Bill used it to advantage. 
Again good fortune seemed to favor him, for regain- 
ing his gun, he speedily exterminated the remainder 
of the gang, except one, who had gotten some distance 
away. One more shot from Bill's six-shooter, and the 
extermination of the gang was complete. 

Bill had not escaped unharmed. When he was 
found by a stocktender shortly after the battle, he 
was lying on his side unconscious and not a charge left 
in his gun. He h'ad received three bullet and two 
knife wounds, which wounds came very nearly ending 
his useful career. He was taken immediately to St. 
Louis, where his life hung by a thread for a long 
time, but his remarkable vitality finally predominated. 
It was, however, fully a year before he was restored 
to his full mind and vigor. 

In the fall of 1867, Bill's restless, roving disposition 
again began to assert itself. He left St. Louis; this 
time going to Camp Supply and Fort Sill in the 



HARD KNOCKS Page 46 

Indian Territory, not far south of Fort Dodge, Kansas. 
At Camp Supply, he was engaged by the Government 
as a scout. This vocation he followed for about a 
year, which was brought to a close by his meeting 
General Custer, of Indian fame. Custer was en route 
to Fort Hayes and prevailed on Bill to go with him. 
While scouting out of Fort Hayes, the town of Hayes 
City sprung up. This town, like all other terminus 
towns of early days, had its full quota of the law- 
less element and the question of keeping them in sub- 
jection was a hard problem to solve. This particular 
town got so bad that General Custer was appealed to 
for military assistance, which he refused. He told 
the citizens that he had a scout working for him by 
the name of Wild Bill, and that if they could arrange 
with him, he would guarantee that the lawless element 
would be kept under control. These arrangements 
were finally made and Wild Bill became the first 
marshal of Hayes City. This was in the year 1868. 
A marshal of those days was very different from what 
the reader today might naturally suppose. He was 
employed by the better class to maintain peace and 
order, and his word and acts were the recognized law ; 
there being no court of justice in existence at that 
time, neither had a marshal any power invested in 
him by the Government. 

Bill was a man of great characteristics, of magnetic 
power, and probably the quickest man with a six- 
shooter the world has ever produced. He was never 
known to shoot twice at the same man, the first shot 
in every case meaning certain death. (This brings my 
story of Wild Bill down to the time when we first 
met) . 

While Bill was marshal of Hayes City, I witnessed 
his killing of seven soldiers, the circumstances of 
which were as follows: 



Page 47 HARDKNOCKS 

There were fifteen soldiers in the party, one of 
them being a 1st Sergant, with whom Bill had pre- 
viously had trouble at Fort Hayes. This had resulted 
in ill feehng between the two, and further trouble 
was certain. Meeting Bill on the street at Hayes 
City, the sergeant having imbibed very freely and 
throwing caution to the winds, invited Bill to put 
away his guns and engage with him in a bare fist 
fight. To this Bill readily consented and, handing 
his guns to his friend, Paddy Walch, a saloon keeper. 
Bill and the sergeant went into the street to fight it 
out. Bill knocked the sergeant down three times. 
The soldiers, seeing their sergeant getting the worst 
of it, rushed in on Bill, one from behind placing his 
knee in the small of Bill's back, forcing him to the 
ground, the others in front kicking and striking at 
him. At this juncture Walch, fearing that Bill would 
be killed, came running up, handed Bill his guns and 
told him to use them if he valued his life. Without 
one instant's hesitation Bill seized his guns and com- 
menced a rapid fire, killing two soldiers back of him 
by shooting over his right shoulder, at the same time 
killing five more in front with the gun in his left 
hand. Naturally this created great excitement, as 
killing a soldier, even by a town marshal, was a very 
serious affair those days. Bill, knowing that General 
Custer would give the matter a very thorough in- 
vestigation, decided to leave the town and secrete him- 
self in the hills until this was over. 

General Custer decided that Bill was justified in 
the killing and exonerated him from all blame. Bill 
then resumed his duties as marshal. In the discharge 
of his duties while marshal of that town, he had a 
record of killing twelve men. 

In the spring of 1869, the town of Abilene, Kansas, 
sprang up. This town was composed of an entirely 
different element from Hayes City, but the toughness 



HARD KNOCKS Page 48 

predominated to a still larger extent, if such a thing 
were possible. Abilene was the rendezvous of cattle- 
men and cowboys, who drove large herds of cattle 
from Texas to Abilene, from where they were shipped 
to eastern markets. Naturally, Abilene became the 
scene of the wildest disorder; being marked by 
drunken orgies, carousals without number, and num- 
erous shooting scrapes that were the natural result. 

The first marshal of Abilene was one Green River 
Smith. This man, fearless and endowed with plenty 
of nerve, and having a very good opinion of himself, 
made many boasts; one of which was, that a bullet 
had never been moulded that could kill him. A short 
time after this boast, he was doomed to death, but in 
a different way from that of a bullet. 

Taking his deputy with him, he left Abilene in 
search of two horse thieves who had been very 
troublesome to many. The thieves were located in a 
dug-out, three miles from town. Smith stationed 
his deputy at the entrance, he himself going inside. 
While in there, his deputy for some unexplained cause 
became alarmed and disappeared. One of the horse 
thieves, stepping behind Smith, struck him in the head 
with an axe, killing him and decapitated him. The 
news of Smith's death at the hands of the horse 
thief quickly reached Abilene, and for two months 
afterward the town was completely in the hands of 
the lawless element; in fact, the state of affairs had 
reached such a stage that the law-abiding citizens were 
seriously contemplating abandoning the town. At this 
critical time, a man who had just arrived from Hayes 
City remarked that if they could but secure Wild 
Bill, their troubles would be over. This was met 
with instant favor and resulted in Wild Bill becoming 
their next marshal. 

Now, dear readers, we will pause for a moment as 
I wish to impress more vividly on your mind the 




J. B. HICKOK (Wild Bill) 

The great Western peace officer. Marshal of the towns of Hayes City, Abeline 

and Ellsworth, Kansas, from 1868 to 1870. (From a photo taken in 1871) 



Page 49 HARDKNOCKS 

state of affairs as they existed at this time, also the 
Herculean task Wild Bill had before him. Here was 
a town that for two months had been in the hands of 
a drunken, desperate, frenzied mob. Many men even 
of that day would have hesitated had they been 
placed in the position of Wild Bill and allotted 
the necessary work he was to set out to do, in 
order to completely change the conditions of the town. 
I went to Abilene about four weeks before Bill and 
remember distinctly the day he arrived there. It was 
about four o'clock in the afternoon. He received a 
warm welcome from the law-abiding citizens. The 
news of his coming had preceded him, and was treated 
by the lawless element as a huge joke. They had had 
things their own way for so long without opposition, 
that the idea of a single man subduing them was, from 
their point of view, simply ridiculous. Bill commenced 
business immediately upon his arrival. His first order 
was that all men should disarm. Entering one of 
the largest saloons, called "The Bullshead," Bill en- 
countered a number of cow-punchers and ordered them 
to disarm. This order was met with jeers and deris- 
ion; some reaching defiantly for their guns. Bill, ever 
on the alert, whipped out his guns and his rapid fire 
quickly snuffed out the lives of eight men. This 
action had a magic effect, and the manager of the 
saloon (Ed Norton) was for a time kept busy receiv- 
ing the guns handed him by those who had suddenly 
decided that discretion was the better part of valor. 
This was Bill's first ofllcial act in Abilene ; temporarily, 
it had a depressing effect. For a short time they 
seemed to feel that they had more than met their 
master. As this feeling gradually wore off, a number 
of them collected in a dance-hall where they concocted 
a plan to assassinate him. This was, fortunately, 
overheard by a man named Billy Mullen, who had 
known Bill in Hayes City. Mullen quickly made his 
way to The Bullshead saloon and appraised Bill of 



HARD KNOCKS Page 50 

the plot. Bill went immediately to the dance-hall and 
ordered all who were in there to back up against the 
wall and put their six-shooters on the floor at their 
feet. Meeting, as he has expected, with some oppo- 
sition, and being a man who took no chances, Bill 
immediately began shooting, killing five before it was 
fully realized that he was indeed their master. 

I will narrate one more episode that occurred in 
this town. There was a certain character who went 
by the name of "Shang," — so named from his great 
height. Shang was a wealthy Texas cattle man. He 
employed about two hundred cow-punchers or cow- 
boys, as they are called now-a-days, and large droves 
of his cattle were constantly being driven in to Abil- 
ene. Shang's power among this certain class, owing 
to his immense wealth, was supreme. It was not 
unusual for him to have an enemy killed for a money 
consideration. Shang and Bill had fallen out, as the 
result of a fancied grievance, and Shang decided that 
Bill's life should pay the forfeit. 

For this purpose he sent to Texas for a man 
named Phil Cole, a noted Texas gun-fighter with a 
reputation in that state, equal to Bill's in Kansas. 
The agreement was that Cole was to come to Abilene 
and kill Bill, for which Shang was to pay him one 
thousand dollars. On Cole's arrival Shang met him 
on the outskirts of the town, taking him down to the 
corral and taking the precaution to have Cole remove 
his six-shooters and spurs, so as not to arouse any 
suspicion. I do not believe at that particular time 
that Bill thought for a moment that Shang had sent 
for Cole. Bill and Cole had never seen each other, 
and they knew each other by reputation only. Shang's 
desire was to point out Bill to Cole without arousing 
Bill's suspicions. Shang and Cole left the corral 
together, going to The Bullshead saloon, where he 
pointed out Bill to Cole. Cole, when he looked this 



Page 51 HARDKNOCKS 

great man over, and having heard so much of him 
through Shang, completely lost his nerve. But know- 
ing what he was brought there for and also knowing 
that he must make good to Shang, Cole asked Shang 
to walk back down to the corral with him; where 
together they talked the matter over. Shang finally 
went home. Cole, after Shang had left him, conceived 
the idea of taking a dog that was in the corral, tying a 
rope around its neck, arming himself, and later taking 
the dog to The Bullshead. This decided upon, he started 
off with the dog at about half past one o'clock in the 
morning. On reaching the saloon, he tied the dog 
to the door latch, and stood behind an awning post 
in front of the door. Knowing that Bill was on the 
inside, he shot the dog, expecting Bill to run out in the 
dark to see what the shooting was about. Bill was not 
to be caught in this trap. Instead of running out, 
with gun in hand he opened the door, keeping behind 
it until the light shone from the saloon into the street, 
when he saw Cole peeking from behind the awning 
post. They both shot at the same time ; Bill a fraction 
of a second quicker than Cole and his bullet entering 
Cole's heart, killed him instantly. Thus ended the 
career of the greatest gun-fighter Texas ever 
produced. 

While Marshal of Abilene, Bill was compelled to 
kill twenty-five men, but he had been successful in his 
mission and had transformed Abilene into a peaceful, 
law-abiding town. 

In the following year, 1870, the cattle business be- 
gan to spread out and new towns were springing up, 
and vieing with Abilene as a cattle center. Among 
these was the town of Ellsworth, which was sorely in 
need of a fearless marshal. Bill transferred his base 
of operations to that town, but did not meet with the 
opposition he had met with in Abilene. By this time, 
his reputation had spread far and wide and the ma- 



HARD KNOCKS Page 52 

jority of the evil-doers of Ellsworth looked upon him 
with wholesome respect, and the killing of nine men 
was all that was necessary to show them that Bill was 
master of the situation. After acting as marshal of 
Ellsworth for a year, Bill decided to make a change, 
and leaving the town went to Kansas City, Missouri. 
Here he met and married Mrs. Lake, the widow of a 
prominent circus-man. 

Texans brought many race ponies with them to 
Abeline and raced them for large sums of money. In 
those days the distance was one-fourth mile. They 
started them with their rear to the outcome, and at 
the crack of a six-shooter fired by the starter, they 
whirled on their hind legs and ran for dear life to 
the outcome. I have seen fifty head of Texas steers 
driven to the race and bet against money on the re- 
sult. Everyone joined in these poney races. Gamblers, 
saloonkeepers, cattlemen, cow punchers, dance hall 
keepers and dance hall girls all bet their money on the 
results. 

In the Summer of 1870 I left Abilene, going to 
Ellsworth, where I remained until Fall; finally joining 
the Toole Brothers, who had purchased out of the va- 
rious herds, eight hundred head of young stock cattle, 
our destination being Montana. 

They intended to winter the cattle on the Arkansas 
River, about one hundred and twenty-five miles west 
of Fort Dodge. We arrived there in due time without 
any trouble, except from the buffalo, which stampeded 
the cattle two or three times. There were hundreds 
of thousands of buffalo in the country at this time. 
After locating ourselves on our winter's range, we 
built two dug-outs in which to live. These were con- 
structed by cutting into a bank or hillside to the size 
desired, then roofing it over with ridge and roof poles, 
and covering all over with dirt. The front end was 
built up with sod, an opening being left for the door. 



Page 53 HARDKNOCKS 

One night during the first week we lived in the 
dug-out, we were awakened by one of the cattle walk- 
ing over the roof. Before many minutes had elapsed, 
she fell through up to her body and we experienced 
a great difficulty in getting her out. Had she fallen 
all the way down, or through, she would have landed 
on my bunk, with probably fatal results to both of us. 

Our down river dug-out was located nine miles be- 
low. Two of the boys and a cook took care of that 
end of the range. They rode up river every morning 
and we rode down, meeting them each day and com- 
paring notes. It was necessary to keep the cattle on 
the range; we also kept two additional men whose 
duty it was to keep the buffalo off the range; they 
were called "buffalo whoopers." These buffalo were 
very destructive to the "buffalo grass." It was very 
short and curly; always green near the ground and 
very fattening for stock. The buffalo usually re- 
mained in the hills back from the river, where they 
found numerous large holes, known as "buffalo wal- 
lows." These wallows were filled with water from the 
rains and melting snow, where they procured their 
drinking water. During the severe winters these holes 
would freeze over, compelling the buffalo to go to the 
river for water. 

I have heard many controversies regarding the 
formation of these holes or wallows, and will here ex- 
plain to you from personal knowledge how they were 
made and why called buffalo wallows: 

During the summer months the buffalo would 
travel this country in immense herds and were contin- 
ually attacked by an insect called the buffalo gnat. 
These gnats would work their way down through the 
hair into the hide of the buffalo and cause constant 
itching. In desperation, the buffalo would tear up the 
earth with his horns and with his front foot throw 
the loose earth over his body, and then lie down, roll- 



HARD KNOCKS Page 54 

ing over and over until his body was completely cov- 
ered with the earth. This made a depression in the 
ground. The buffalo would then rise to his feet, shak- 
ing his body, causing great clouds of dust which ex- 
terminated the gnat. This same performance would 
be gone through by others until a large, deep hole was 
the result; thus the name of "buffalo wallow." Thou- 
sands of these holes were to be found on the prairie, 
and were all formed in this manner. 

It is wonderful the uses that were made of these 
buffalo wallows after the buffalo were exterminated, 
as many a tired emigrant wending his way westward 
found water for himself and stock ; many of them also 
using these holes as breast works, when attacked by 
Indians. In the vicinity of these holes was also found 
a vast amount of offal from the buffalo, called buffalo 
chips, which was used for fuel for cooking purposes. 
I, myself, have eaten many a good meal cooked by this 
kind of fuel. 

It was very remarkable, however, that one never 
found the great buffalo herds moving any direction 
but south, unless when they were scared, when they 
would run north for a short distance, but would 
eventually resume their journey south. It is no ex- 
aggeration to say that at times I have stood on 
heights and have seen hundreds of thousands of these 
animals in one great herd. The extermination of 
these vast herds was completed in a few years. 

One bright, cold winter morning we were in the 
dug-out and saw an immense herd of buffalo coming 
to the river for water. 

"Young has never killed a buffalo," said Mr. Toole, 
when we sighted the herd, "and here is his chance. 
Let him take the first shot." I took an old Spencer 
carbine and secreted myself in a clump of willows near 
the river, in sight of the dug-out. In a few minutes 
on came the herd and in a short time hundreds of 



Page 55 HARDKNOCKS 

these magnificent animals were on all sides of me. 
For some reason, however, they did not see or scent 
me. I became nervous and yelled at them. In a 
moment everything was in confusion — never shall I 
forget that grand sight. Every buffalo in the herd 
seemed to be aware of his danger and immediately 
stampeded toward the hills. One old bull came with- 
in two feet of my hiding place. Although I was very 
much frightened, I pointed the gun at him and pulled 
the trigger. I then made a run for the dug-out with- 
out waiting to see the result of my shot, completely 
forgetting that there were other loads in the magazine 
of the weapon. The buffalo did not immediately fall, 
although I was sure that my shot had struck him. 
When near the dug-out I saw the boys looking at a 
point back of me, and following the direction of their 
gaze I saw the buffalo in the throes of death. "Why 
didn't you take another shot at them?" asked Mr. 
Toole. 

"Because," I replied, straightening up as proud as 
a peacock, "one shot is enough for a green hand." 
Later on I became quite a buffalo hunter. The four 
months that I remained with the Toole Brothers, I 
killed forty-six of these animals. Each herder carried 
a gun and ammunition, and we were supposed to kill 
all the buffalo possible ; some we used for food, but our 
principal revenue was from their hides. The prices 
were three dollars and ten cents for bull hides, and 
two dollars and ten cents for cow hides. Mr. Toole 
told me afterward that during their winter stay there, 
they had killed and sold enough hides to pay the 
wages and expenses of the men for the entire winter. 
The almost complete extermination of the buffalo 
was caused by professional hunters, who were con- 
tinually killing them for their hides. These hides 
were hauled to the nearest railroad station, where 
they were sold and later on shipped to England, where 
they were made into belting for machinery. Few 



HARD KNOCKS Page 56 

were made into buffalo robes, as the hunters did not 
have the time to tan them. 

To give the reader some idea of the money made 
by some of these profession hunters, I will select 
one man whom I knew well. His name was Kirt 
Jordan. Kirt had three four-horse teams and twenty 
men in his employ and was one of the most successful 
hunters at this time. He held the record, having 
killed a hundred buffalo in one stand. In getting a 
stand of buffalo, the hunter must crawl up unawares 
without being seen or scented. Should the hunter be 
fortunate enough not to be seen or scented, he could 
kill numbers of them before they would get out of 
gun-shot, as they are not easily frightened. After 
quitting the Toole Brothers, I went skinning buffalo 
for Kirk Jordan and was the first to suggest and put 
into practical operation the skinning of buffalo by 
mule power. This was done by cutting the hide 
around the neck, down the belly and up the legs, 
after which the skin was started a little. A large 
sharp steel pin was then driven through the buffalo's 
nose and into the ground; then a hole was cut in 
the back part of the hide at the neck, a chain hooked 
in the cut and by means of a collar, hames, traces and 
single-tree, with which the mule was equipped, the 
hide was pulled off the buffalo with the greatest of 
ease. Of course, by this operation much of the flesh 
adhered to the hide, but the market value of the latter 
was not affected in the least. After the hides had 
been staked out until partly dry, they were loaded on 
wagons, which were equipped with a rack similar 
to a hay-rack, also using a binding pole. In this 
way a great many hides could be hauled in one load. 
These wagons were drawn by four animals to the 
nearest town on the line of the Atchison, Topeka & 
Santa Fe railroad, and sold at the prices previously 
mentioned. Anyone who was a good hunter and who 
had an outfit, could make a great deal of money in 




CO"" 



3 a- 



oCQ C 
-CO 












■a ^ an 

Q »;- 
= £•= 



Page 57 HARDKNOCKS 

this business as long as it lasted. Kirk Jordan made 
thousands of dollars. 

Kirt Jordan, the great buffalo hunter, finally went 
wrong, and became a horse and mule thief. The U. S. 
marshal arrested him for stealing government mules, 
tried and sentenced him to Leavenworth Government 
Prison for ten years. An officer and two men, with 
Kirt handcuffed, started for Leavenworth, Kirt sit- 
ting in the seat with the officer, and the soldiers sit- 
ting in the seat at his back. Kirt requested the offi- 
cer to unhandcuff him as he wished to wash himself 
in the toilet. The officer did so, when, as quick as 
lightning, he grabbed the officer's six-shooter from 
his scabard and shot him dead. He then shot one of 
the soldiers, and jumped through the open window to 
the ground, lighting on his head and breaking his 
neck. Poor Kirt was a good fellow, but, like many 
others, after his occupation as a buffalo hunter ended, 
he could not resume his occupation as a teamster, and 
accordingly went bad. 

Billie Brooks, the gun man of Dodge City in the 
early seventies, was one day riding on the construc- 
tion train from Dodge City to Sergeant. The conduc- 
tor, coming through the coach, asked him for his 
fare. Brooks replied by drawing his six-shooter, say- 
ing, "I travel on this." The conductor passed on. 
After he was through with his fare collecting, he went 
forward to the locomotive and instructed the engineer 
to slow down at a certain point. Getting his shotgun, 
he dropped off the engine and caught the last car, in 
which Brooks was seated. Approaching from the 
back, he called out, "Brooks, the fare to Sergeant is 
$2.75." Brooks looked over his shoulder, and seeing 
the shotgun pointed at him, replied: 

"To whom do I pay the money?" 

Just then the brakeman stepped in. The conduc- 
tor said, "Pay the brakeman, and also hand him your 



HARD KNOCKS Page 58 

six-shooters, and when you arrive at Sergeant the 
agent there will return them to you." 

Brooks did so. Meeting the conductor the same 
night in the dance hall, Brooks said, "Old man, you 
are a good fellow and a good collector, and I want to 
be your friend." Thus the matter ended. 

Brooks in future days became a horse and mule 
thief, and was chased by a posse to a dugout near 
Wichita, where he stood the posse off for two days. 
He was finally induced to surrender with the promise 
that he would be tried by law in Wichita. He was 
told to leave his guns in the dugout and walk out un- 
armed. He did so, and was mounted on a horse and 
taken to a nearby tree and hanged. Thus ended 
Brooks' career as a gun man. 

One year after the Santa Fe railroad had been 
constructed along the Arkansas river, there came 
into that country an old man with a two-horse team, 
who quietly began the gathering of buffalo bones, 
hauling them to the railroad and piling them in great 
heaps. The boys all laughed at him and dubbed him 
"Old Buffalo Bones." The old fellow enjoyed their 
joking him and kept on with his gathering. Later he 
procured another team and sent east for his son to 
drive it. The following year this man had many great 
piles of bones ready for shipment east. The Santa 
Fe railroad being anxious to load their empty cars 
eastward, gave him a very low rate and laid side- 
tracks to the piles. The records at Dodge City show 
that this "Old Bones" shipped three thousand carloads 
to Philadalphia, where they were used in sugar re- 
fineries and for fertilizing purposes. This old man, 
at whom we had laughed, made a great fortune in 
two years. 

To give the reader an idea of the number of buffalo 
killed in that country, the railroad records at Dodge 



Page 59 HARDKNOCKS 

City show that two million buffalo hides were shipped 
from that station alone, and it is estimated that there 
were twenty-million buffalo killed between the bound- 
aries of Montana and Texas. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 60 



CHAPTER VII. 

STRENUOUS PIONEER LIFE AT FORT DODGE— UNSUNG 
AND UNHUNG HEROES— BOOT HILL CEMETERY- 
PORTABLE DANCE HALLS— CARNIVAL OF MURDER 
—WORK OF THE VIGILANTES— THE FAITHFUL 
BULLDOG— HORRIBLE PRACTICAL JOKE ON THE 
BUFFALO SKIN ROBBER— "RUN, DARCY! RUN FOR 
LIFE"— TRIBUTE TO THE DANCE HALL GIRL. 

IN the early spring of 1871, having tired of the 
buffalo skinning business, I returned to the 
Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe extension, that I 
might experience frontier life, then to be found in 
all its glory. I went over to Dodge City, then the 
terminus. The town was two miles west of Fort Dodge 
and all the elements of frontier life were there, includ- 
ing many saloons and three large dance halls. That the 
town was rough, goes without question. Buffalo 
hunters made their headquarters here, and disposed 
of their hides and spent their money lavishly. 

. There are few who know, and it is difficult to con- 
ceive, how hardened men can become when in such 
surroundings as existed there. My experiences in 
that town were many and varied, and the characters 
were a study for one of a contemplative turn of mind. 
Among those whom I now recall were Billy Brooks, 
of Newton fame ; "Dog" Kelly, who kept a large saloon 
there and who derived his nicname "Dog" from being 
a large owner of greyhounds, which the sporting 
element used for hunting jack rabbits. They bet a 
great deal of money on these hounds and made very 
fine sport of it. I understand that this character, 
Kelly, is still alive in Dodge City. Other characters, 
Pete Hicks, who was day marshal; his brother Bill, 
night marshal, and both of whom were killed there 
later on, and Bat Masterson, who is now living in 



Page 61 HARDKNOCKS 

New York, Others were, Lushy Bill, Ed. Hurley, 
Fancy Pat, Tom Sherman, Mose Walters, Jim Han- 
nafan, Joe Hunt, George Peacock, and many whose 
names I have forgotten. At this particular time in 
the west, a great many men had nicknames and one 
never did know their proper names and cared less. 

As an illustration of the lawlessness in that town : 
One night Ed. Hurley and three others were crossing 
from the main town to the dance-hall. They saw a 
buffalo hunter standing in the middle of the street, 
yelling at the top of his voice : "I am a wolf, it is my 

night to howl, and I would like to have some 

stop me." 

"What is the matter with you?" asked Hurley, 
walking up to the fellow. 

"I am a wolf," was the reply; "it is my night to 
howl and the whole bunch of you can't stop me." 

Whereupon, Hurley, without a word of warning, 
shot him dead. Hurley then kicked him, saying as 
he did so: "Now, why don't you howl?" Hurley then 
went on to the dance-hall, singing as he did so. As 
he entered the door, he saw a man named McClelland 
talking to a dance-hall girl named Nellie Rivers. This 
aroused Hurley's jealousy, and he began shooting at 
McClelland ; the latter returning the fire, killed Hurley. 
McClelland at this time was a brakesman on the 
railroad, but after this episode, he left the job and 
became a gun-fighter. His career was short, how- 
ever, for he was killed by a desperado named "Scotty" 
in Peacock's saloon just one week after he killed 
Hurley. After the killing, McClelland lay on the bar 
room floor when Nellie Rivers, who had heard of his 
death, came in to look at him. Sitting astride of his 
body, folding his hands over his breast, she cried 
"you killed my Eddie ! You killed my Eddie !" meaning 
Hurley; emphasizing the statement each time by 



HARD KNOCKS Page 62 

slapping the face of the dead man. She continued 
slapping him and finally had to be pulled away. 

McClelland was buried the next morning in Boot 
Hill cemetery, the name "Boot Hill' being acquired 
from the fact that all who were buried there had died 
with their boots on. The one exception was a drunken 
painter who had died of delerium tremens. This 
cemetery is still a landmark of early days, and during 
the six months that I lived in Dodge, sixty-five men 
were buried there, all having died "with their boots 
on." 

At this time I was night watchman at the Govern- 
ment freight shed, situated at the east limit of the 
town. Although, I will confess, instead of remaining 
on duty at night as I should have done, I spent a 
great portion of my time in the dance-halls. One 
beautiful moonlight night, I, together with about one 
hundred others, was in one of these places, when a 
drunken buffalo hunter stepped in at the door and 
exclaiming, "Oh, what a field," began shooting over 
our heads. He did not cease shooting until he had 
emptied both guns. When the dance-hall was built, 
it was made up in sections, fastened together with 
hooks and staples, so that when the towns moved 
on farther west, the hall could be loaded on flat cars 
and set up again at the next terminus. When the 
drunken hunter began shooting, the crowd made its 
escape by rushing head-long against the sides of the 
hall, practically knocking the structure to pieces. We 
all made our escape and as no one was hit, it is my 
belief that he shot only to frighten us. The citizens, 
however, could not see the situation in that light and 
advocated hanging, as the best remedy. 

They probably thought that one might as well be 
killed as almost scared to death, and for this reason 
they failed to see the point of the joke and insisted on 
hanging him. He ran up into one of the canyons 



Page 63 HARDKNOCKS 

near the town, but was caught later and brought back. 
He was tried in "Dog Kelly's saloon, convicted and 
taken out to be hanged. He broke away and ran for 
his wagon, which was on the edge of the town, and as 
he crawled under it, he was shot by Pete Hicks, the 
marshal. His faithful bulldog was tied under the 
wagon and when one of the men reached to pull the 
dead body out, the dog seized him by the arm and 
had to be killed before he would let go. 

One of the closest calls I ever had was in Dodge 
City. I was in "Handsome Harry's" saloon one day 
and had some difficulty with a cook who worked in the 
restaurant next door, when a few blows were ex- 
changed. He went away, and I supposed the trouble 
was over. A little later on, I was standing at the 
bar with my back toward the entrance of the saloon 
when he entered, and without any warning took two 
shots at me; neither one taking effect. I being un- 
armed, one of the crowd caught and held him until 
I could get my gun, which happened to be behind the 
bar. We then agreed to go out on the prairie and 
settle the matter. We were to place our backs to- 
gether, walk ten paces in opposite directions, turn and 
lire. We went out, but before either of us could do 
any damage, our friends interefered and the proceed- 
ings stopped. It is probable that neither of us re- 
gretted the interference very much, for later we be- 
came warm friends. He and another man went south 
a few weeks later to sell whiskey to the Kiwa Indians. 
Unfortunately, arriving in their country while they 
were on the war path, it resulted in the cook and 
his partner being killed by this tribe and all their 
whiskey being confiscated. 

The town of Dodge City soon afterward became 
so tough that the saloon men and merchants formed 
themselves into a vigilance committee and appointed 
Fancy Pat as their leader. They were determined 



HARD KNOCKS Page 64 

to rid the town of all undesirable characters. Equip- 
ping themselves with revolvers, rifles and shot-guns, 
they made ready for the slaughter. Selecting all the 
tough men whom they wished to exterminate, at a 
given signal they swooped on all three dance-halls 
and began shooting — and what a slaughter. Fourteen 
men were killed and were left lying in the street all 
night where they fell. I recollect the name of only 
one of the victims, "Tex Williams." Tex was shot 
completely to pieces, as he ran out of the front door 
of the dance-hall. He was a ghastly sight, being 
riddled from head to foot. I was told later that even 
small screws were picked out of his body. I do not 
doubt the truth of this assertion, as many of the 
men used small screws as ammunition for their shot- 
guns. At the time of the killing, I was standing in 
a saloon, when two or three of the men, whom the 
Regulators were after, ran through the room and 
secreted themselves in the coal cellar. The Regulators 
came in shortly and asked Frank Pedrie, the bar- 
keeper, if any of the gang were hidden thereabouts. 
Pedrie replied "No," when they took a drink all round, 
and left for Sherman's dance-hall. They then collected 
all the dance-hall girls, who had run away screaming 
when the shooting took place. One of the dead men 
lay in front of the entrance to the hall, where he had 
dropped when shot. 

It was a cold, in fact, freezing night, and as he 
lay there with wide open mouth, his eyes set in death, 
and his body entirely covered with blood, he was a 
sight to sicken the strongest. One of the dance-hall 
girls tied her handkerchief around his head to keep 
his mouth closed, when one of the Regulators, who 
witnessed this humane act, struck her on the head 
with his six-shooter, wounding her severely. The 
dead body of the victim lay there until daylight, while 
the Regulators enjoyed themselves dancing and drink- 
ing. It was an awful night of murder and carnage. 




CALAMITY JANE 

The great female character of Wyoming from 1875 to 1906 



Page 65 HARDKNOCKS 

I say murder, for most all the Regulators were them- 
selves gun-fighters as well as businessmen, and many 
of them were equally as bad as their victims. 

The morning after the killing they employed six 
carpenters, who made seven boxes out of rough lum- 
ber, putting two victims in each box, then loading 
them onto two-horse wagons. The procession then 
started for Boot Hill cemetery — and such a sight! 
I shall never forget it. Most everyone in town turned 
out, the greatest part of whom were the Regulators, 
who had done the killing. They had caroused all night, 
some shooting as they proceeded up the hill; others 
laughing, and others swearing. Each man linked arms 
with a dance-hall girl. Finally arriving at the pre- 
pared graves, they lowered each box and made all 
kinds of gestures and remarks. 

While the earth was shoveled onto the boxes, they 
circled around, dancing like a lot of wild Indians. 
One of them, I recollect, remarked, "Let us give 
them each a flask of whiskey, to use on their way to 
hell." Work was stopped until the seven flasks of 
whiskey were procured and deposited in the graves, 
when all returned to town, yelling and laughing. This 
ended the night of horror in Dodge City, Kansas. 

Shortly after this occurrence took place, complaint 
was made by the buffalo hide merchants that someone 
was stealing their hides, which were piled up in the 
streets in front of their stores. Five hundred dollars 
reward was finally offered for the capture of the 
thieves. I was asked by the Hicks Brothers to assist 
them in capturing the guilty parties. While on watch 
one moonlight night, we saw a man getting away 
with two hides on his shoulder. We called on him to 
halt, but instead of obeying us, he dropped the hides 
and ran. We took a shot at him but missed and he 
continued running toward the Arkansas river, and we 
following him. When he had run into the water up to 



HARD KNOCKS Page 66 

his waist, he threw up his hands and promised to 
come out if we would not shoot. On his return to the 
bank we discovered that it was Darcey, one of the 
town's old drunks. He begged to be allowed to go, as 
he was only trying to get a little money with which 
to buy whiskey. I favored letting him go and saying 
nothing of the occurrence. But the Hicks Brothers 
wanted that five hundred dollars blood money, and in- 
sisted that he be summarily dealt with. We took him 
to the railroad station and reported the capture to 
the merchants. When they saw who it was, they 
decided to release him. Dog Kelly, however, saw an 
opportunity for a practical joke, and had poor old 
Darcey brought up to his saloon and tried for the 
offense. Of course, he was found guilty; the verdict 
was that he should be hanged to a telegraph pole. 
The old man begged and prayed for mercy, but with- 
out avail. He was taken up the railroad track and 
while one of the men was climbing the pole to arrange 
the rope, Kelly, according to a prearranged plan, 
whispered to Darcey, "Now is your chance; run for 
your life." The old fellow taking advantage of the 
opportunity began to run as he had never run before. 
Suddenly we began shooting in the air and yelling 
"Stop Darcey! Stop!" we running after him. Of 
course, we stopped after a little and allowed him to 
escape. He probably considered it the closest call of 
his life; and I think, if alive, he is running yet, as he 
was never again seen in that vicinity. 

I wish to make special mention of the class of 
dance-hall girls that were brought to Dodge City in 
early days. In many instances they were girls who 
had been well raised, but who were inveigled into 
that tough town by misrepresentation on the part of 
whom we would term today "Whiteslavers." After 
getting them to Dodge, they would put them in dance- 
halls, turning them over to gun-men who became their 
lovers and by whom they were treated in nearly all 



Page 67 HARDKNOCKS 

cases most cruelly. Nellie Rivers, of whom I have 
spoken, was well educated and very handsome, and 
evidently came from a good family. Realizing the 
unavoidable position in which she was placed and the 
hopelessness of ever getting back to her former home, 
she became a great hater of men and seemed pos- 
sessed of a mania for having them killed for trivial 
reasons. After succeeding in being the cause of 
having five killed, she was considered so dangerous 
that it was decided to hang her. Her life was saved, 
however, through the intervention of Fancy Pat and 
Dog Kelly. She was allowed to leave town with the 
understanding that she was not to return. She was 
never again seen in her old haunts. 

Many of these dance-hall girls had rough exteriors, 
which covered warm hearts. One would be surprised 
at the sacrifices and attentions they would devote to 
the sick and wounded. I have known many cases 
where they would quit their work and sit up with 
them, devoting tender care, and not asking or expect- 
ing anything in return. I shall always have a warm 
spot in my heart for the poor unfortunate dance-hall 
girls. 

It is not generally known at this date that the 
dance hall girl was the true pioneer woman of the 
West. Few of them in the seventies, if they stood 
the stormy days, married good men — cattle men, 
merchandising men, miners, etc., and made noble 
wives and mothers. I could name one who bore two 
sons and one daughter. One of the sons later repre- 
sented a Middle Western state in the U. S. Congress. 
After the dance hall girl came the farmer and his wife. 
Then the dance hall girl disappeared, her occupation 
being a thing of the past. 

It is a true saying that "music hath charms to 
soothe the savage." I distinctly remember one night 
in Tom Sherman's dance-hall, when revelry was at its 



HARD KNOCKS Page 68 

height; with all its drinking, cursing and swearing. 
The revellers were at the bar, each accompanied by 
his girl, when suddenly a character named "Sims" 
the violinist of the dance-hall, stringing his instru- 
ment to a high key, commenced playing in a masterly 
style, the old familiar tune "Home, Sweet Home." In 
a moment all was still, many holding their liquor 
glasses in their hands, their heads bowed and tears 
trickling down their cheeks. This was a very un- 
usual scene, and one never to be forgotten. Suddenly, 
in a loud tone of voice, the dance-hall manager or 
more commonly known as the "Bouncer," shouted, 
"Get your partners for the next quadrille." All was 
forgotten; the music started up and the wild revelry 
again resumed. Such was life in the west in early 
days. A few words of explanation regarding gun- 
fighters of Dodge City and other frontier towns. 
Take such men as Bat Materson: he was the soul of 
honor and only killed when it was necessary to pro- 
tect himself. Luke Short, who had a great reputation 
as a gun-man, followed the occupation of a gambler 
and killed many men. Luke was a fine man, with 
gentlemanly instincts, but quick tempered. He was 
considered square and much respected; also Wyat 
Erap, who had considerable trouble in Arizona in 
early days, and killed with his brothers many men 
in that country. I met Wyat in Nome, Alaska, in 
1900 and found him a perfect gentleman. This class 
of men didn't kill for gain. Another class of gun- 
men who were desperadoes, horse thieves and road 
agents, who killed for gain. This class were entirely 
different from Materson, Short and Earp. 

\ 
S 



Page 69 HARDKNOCKS 



CHAPTER VIII. 

MURDERS FOR MONEY— TWO INNOCENT MEN SUFFER 
FOR THE CRIME— THE FACTS ONLY RECENTLY 
TOLD— CATCHING BUFFALO— OVER TO THE UNION 
PACIFIC RAILROAD — WILD BILL AGAIN — "RED 
PAT," THE TEAMSTER, WHO STILL LIVES. 

A NOTHER tough character at Dodge City, was 
/\ "Kelly the Rake." While I was herding 
Z— m cattle for Toole Brothers, Kelly and another 
A m. tough denizen named Red Johnson, whom I 
had met in Wichita, entered the employ of a 
man named Jack (I do not recollect his other name) ; 
they camped at our upper dug-out. These three men, 
Kelly, Johnson and Jack, were going southward for 
the purpose of hunting buffalo, forming a partnership 
for that purpose. Sometime later Johnson and Kelly 
returned to the town of Sergeant, on the Colorado- 
Kansas state line, and at that time the terminus 
of the A. T. & S. F. Ry. They returned with a big 
load of buffalo hides and the information that they 
had bought out the third man. Jack. The hides were 
sold to Chris Gillson, after which Johnson and Kelly 
became gloriously drunk. While in this condition they 
met Clark and McClellan, two buffalo skinners who 
were in town and to whom they imparted the infor- 
mation that they, Kelly and Johnson, had killed Jack 
and buried him in the sand hills. On sobering up 
the next day, they became alarmed lest Clark and 
McClellan should divulge what had been told them. 
Determined to put these men out of the way, if 
possible, Kelly and Johnson went to Chris Gillson and 
told him that Clark and McClellan were planning to 
kill and rob him that night. Gillson, who had just 
received a large sum of money from the sale of a lot 
of hides, was very much alarmed and spent the night 



HARD KNOCKS Page 70 

in a box car instead of in his tent. The next morning 
Chris and I were standing outside his tent, talking, 
when Clark and McClellan came along, with no 
thought of danger. Chris, who had a doubled-barreled 
shotgun in his hands, emptied one barrel of the 
weapon into Clark, killing him instantly. He then 
pursued McClellan, who was by this time attempting 
to get away, and shot him down, the poor fellow 
begging all the time for mercy. 

The reader will possibly question the source of 
my information regarding this affair. I did not come 
into possession of the facts in the case until several 
years later, when I was employed as traveling pas- 
senger agent for the Oregon Railroad & Navigation 
Company, and on one occasion had to go to St. Paul, 
Minn., stopping off en route at every coupon ticket 
office on the line of the Northern Pacific Railway. 
Shortly after leaving Miles City, Montana, I went into 
the smoking car. There I noticed a pock-marked man 
sitting in front of me and whose face seemed familiar. 
Presently, I realized who he was. "How are you 
Chris?" I asked, turning to him. 

"You have the best of me," was his reply. "What 
is your name?" On being told who I was, he showed 
great delight, and together we spent some time talk- 
ing over the old days on the A. T. & S. F. 

"Have you ever seen 'Kelly the Rake' in your 
travels?" he asked. I told him no. 

"Well," he continued, "if I ever meet him, he will 
be a dead man." After which he told me the story 
narrated above. He also told me he had found out 
in the intervening time that McClellan and Clark were 
innocent of any intention to injure him, and that 
Kelly had maliciously told him this story for his own 
protection, with the thought in mind that "dead men 
tell no tales." 



Page 71 HARDKNOCKS 

Chris was on his way to Washington, D. C, to 
collect some Government money due him for two 
years' surveying work done in Alaska. I have not 
seen him since we met that day. 

A few days after this occurred at Sergeant, four 
of us went down river to a ranch kept by a man 
named "Prairie Dog Dave," for the purpose of catch- 
ing buffalo calves, our intention being to ship them 
east by rail. Insofar as our catching the calves was 
concerned, we were very successful. They were 
caught in the following manner: 

Mounted on our horses, we got as near the herd 
as possible, unseen, then suddenly riding after them. 
The cows and young calves, when the herd was 
stampeded would naturally drop to the rear and the 
cows would remain with the calves until closely 
pressed, when they would desert them. We would 
then jump from our horses, throw the calves down 
and tie their legs. 

At ths season of the year, the calves were about 
two months old. We succeeded in catching twenty 
head, and finally hauled them to the ranch by wagon. 
However, we soon discovered that we could not tame 
them, nor could we get them to eat, so out of pity 
we let them go. Before doing so, however, two were 
drowned in a spring near the ranch. We had picketed 
them out, taking the ends of a lariat and fastening 
it around their necks, then taking the middle of the 
lariat and attaching it to a picket pin, which we drove 
into the ground, but the poor little fellows became 
entangled in it and fell into the spring, where they 
were drowned. Two others escaped with a sixty foot 
lariat, which we never recovered, and I shall always 
believe that someone stole the lariat and allowed the 
calves to get away. Our venture was not a success. 
We became discouraged and gave up the business. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 72 

Had I known as much in those days as I do at the 
present time, I could have made a fortune buying 
buffalo robes, trading with the Indians, who had 
thousands of them and which would not have cost 
to exceed five dollars each in trade. A buffalo robe 
today is worth from one hundred to five hundred 
dollars. 

I left this section of the country in the fall 
of 1871, going to Pueblo, Colorado, from which place 
I went to Denver, Colorado. Here I worked for a 
short time and then went to Cheyenne, Wyoming, — 
situated on the Union Pacific railroad. There I re- 
sumed my old occupation as a "six-mule skinner" 
for the Government, driving out of Camp Carlin, 
which was then the Government supply station for 
all northern posts. It was located between Cheyenne 
and Fort D. A. Russell, on the Union Pacific railroad. 
I remained there for about a year. 

One night in Cheyenne I strolled into McDaniels' 
variety show. On entering the door I spied my old 
friend "Wild Bill" standing with his back to the 
wall, looking on at a faro game. He did not look very 
prosperous, and I was quite sure that the world had 
been treating him badly since I had last seen him, 
or he certainly would have been one of the players. 
I also noticed that when he sat down, he kept the 
cases. This gave him an opportunity to pick up any 
sleepers that might be left on any dead card by an 
inexperienced player. 

On seeing me, Bill remarked in a pleased tone: 
"Hello, Kid! I am glad to see you. Where have you 
been for the last few years, and how is the world 
treating you? " 

I told him what I had been doing and also what 
I was doing at that time. He finally told me that he 
was broke. 



Page 73 HARDKNOCKS 

This particular night, a man named Ed O'Malley 
was playing the game, and leaving a bet on the jack, 
which had become dead. Bill naturally reached over 
and took the checks. Later, O'Malley, missing his 
checks, inquired of the dealer what became of his 
bet on the jack. The dealer did not answer him, but 
some man among the players whispered to him that 
Wild Bill took it, whereupon O'Malley rushed up to 
Bill, and with a string of expletives, demanded that 
Bill replace the checks on the table. Bill looked up 
at him, saying, "What would you do if I did not 
replace them?" 

O'Malley replied, "I would cut your heart out." 

Bill smiled and then said, "Then I had better 
replace them;" which he did. This O'Malley, whose 
occupation was that of a camp cook, was a fighting 
Irishman and had killed a man several months prior 
by stabbing him with a carving knife. 

There are many persons who entertain the idea 
that Wild Bill was noisy and quarrelsome, but this 
impression is not at all correct. During the years of 
my acquaintance with him, I never knew him to pick 
a quarrel, but have known him to stop many that 
might have ended seriously. 

At this time a man named Jeff Carr was marshal 
of Cheyenne, and when Bill arrived there Carr went 
to him, saying: "You can remain in this town as long 
as you wish by giving me your word of honor that 
you will not carry your gun on your person, nor get 
into any trouble that you can possibly avoid." Bill 
agreed to these terms, with one proviso namely, that 
he be allowed to put his gun within easy reach in any 
house that he might be. As an illustration, when he 
came into McDaniels' theatre, he put his gun behind 
the bar. 

While in Cheyenne, Bill had won the affections of a 
girl whoes lover was a man named "Fighting Tom" 



HARD KNOCKS Page 74 

and who was the night marshal of the town. Tom 
recognized in Bill a dangerous rival and to get him out 
of the way, assumed the responsibility of ordering 
Bill to leave town within twenty-four hours. 

"Why should I leave town?" Bill asked. "Further- 
more, by whose orders are you attempting to run me 
out?" 

"By order of Jeff Carr," was Tom's reply. With- 
out further to do. Bill went up to Carr's house and 
asked him why he had ordered him out of town. 
Carr was much surprised at the question, and said 
he knew nothing about the matter. Bill then told Carr 
what Fighting Tom had said. To this Carr replied: 
"You may remain in this town as long as you please, 
so long as you keep your word given to me." Upon 
this Bill returned to the variety show and calling 
Tom aside, said to him: "Tom you have lied to me. 
Jeff Carr says so and I say so. Now if you ever look 
my way while I am in Cheyenne, there will be a 
vacancy in this town for a night marshal." Tom made 
no reply, but walked away, and thus ended the matter. 

Cheyenne in those days was a very lively town. 
The Union Pacific had their railroad shop there. Fort 
D. A. Russell was a very large post, having a great 
many soldiers in it. Camp CarHn was also a large 
place, and a great many teamsters were employed 
there. All the freighting to northern posts, — Fort 
Laramie, Fort Fetterman and others, originated from 
Cheyenne. The reader can imagine what pay day 
meant at Fort D. A. Russell, where at least one thou- 
sand soldiers were paid on the same day ; one hundred 
teamsters would also be paid at Camp Carlin. In 
addition to this was the railroad employees' pay day. 
This naturally circulated a great deal of money. The 
town had many saloons, gambling houses and dance- 
halls, with its quota of gamblers and dance-hall girls, 
and I assure you it was a very live town. Many of the 



Page 75 HARDKNOCKS 

merchants and business men were ex-government 
teamsters or soldiers, who had been discharged from 
the army. For instance, Mr. H. E. Post was formerly 
a teamster, but at this time postmatser, and later 
represented Cheyenne in United States congress. 

One of the largest saloons in Cheyenne was kept 
by a character named Red Pat,— so dubbed because 
of the color of his hair. This fellow was an ex- 
teamster and his saloon was the great resort for 
the mule-skinners. While in his place we would spend 
our money like drunken sailors, and when we were 
broke, he would give us a few dollars and tell us 
to go hunt another job. Pat was a good old soul, 
but a bad man in a rough and tumble fight. I learned 
recently that he is still alive and doing business at 
the same old location. 

To give the reader some idea of Cheyenne on 
Government pay-day, the citizens would send all kinds 
of vehicles out to the Fort and Camp Carlin, taking 
us into town free of charge. Jeff Carr, the marshal, 
would deputize twenty-five extra men to keep some 
semblance of order. They were not severe, how- 
ever, and I have seen them when a couple of soldiers 
were fighting, keep the crowd back by forming a 
ring, letting the contestants fight it out. Just as long 
as the soldiers or mule-skinners had money to spend, 
they tolerated them, but as soon as their money was 
gone, they then began to drive them out of town, and 
in some cases, clubbed them unmercifully. We went 
back to our jobs, swearing that next pay-day we 
would not go into Cheyenne, but we would invariably 
land there the following pay-day. At the time I drove 
a team at Camp Carlin. Our superintendent was a 
man named Botsford, of whom I will write later on. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 76 



CHAPTER IX. 

ON THE CHUGWATER— DEAR OLD FORT LARAMIE— A 
TEAMSTER JOB WITH ROUGH ATTACHMENTS— MY 
FIRST SIOUX — PLENTY MORE — TWENTY MILES 
ALONE AND UNARMED— ON WHITE RIVER— RED 
CLOUD— LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 

IN the summer of 1872, I quit my job as teamster 
and went to the ranch of Jack Hunton, located on 
a stream called the Chugwater, where I worked 
with his brother Jim, getting out fence posts, 
about two miles from the river, at a place called 
Goshen Hole. Some two years after this the Sioux 
Indians killed and scalped Jim while he was hunting 
for stock. After quitting Hunton, I went to Fort Lar- 
amie. There I applied for a position as teamster, but 
as there was no vacancy, I could not get employment. 

I wish the reader to understand that I had not as 
yet met any bad wild Indians. However, this experi- 
ence came to me before I had been in Laramie many 
days. Hearing that Cuney & Coffee wanted a team- 
ster at their ranch, four miles up the Laramie river, 
I went there that evening and applied for the job. 
Cuney informed me that he did want a teamster. He 
then asked me to have a drink, and after talking a 
while, he said: "We pay forty dollars a month and 
board to drivers of our four-mule teams, and you may 
go to work tomorrow morning. Now enjoy yourself." 
I informed him that I could not afford to blow myself, 
as my money was limited. "Drink all you want ;" was 
his reply, "there are no charges to a new-comer." 
I looked upon his open-heartedness with suspicion, but 
took a few drinks, after which I fell asleep. 

Jack Bowman, the bartender, took me into a side 
room filled with furs of all descriptions and I lay there 
and slept until Jack wakened me about daylight. He 



Page 77 HARDKNOCKS 

then gave me a bottle of mustard pickles and some 
crackers, for the purpose, he said, of settling my 
stomach. They surely did. Jack told me that my 
team was hitched up outside and ready to start. I 
thought him one of the best fellows I had ever met. 

"Now," said Jack, "you are to take this load of 
canned goods to Mr. Deere, a trader on White River, /* 
two hundred miles north of here. This," he added, 
handing me a piece of paper, on which was written 
the miles, camps, rivers, etc., of the road, "is a 
memorandum of stopping and camping places." Off 
I started, all alone — no gun or other means of pro- 
tection, only food for the mules and myself. I made 
my noon and night camps without any trouble, cooked 
my supper and staked out the mules, after which I 
rolled up in my blankets and slept like a log for the 
remainder of the night. 

Next morning I missed the mules, and later found 
that they had pulled up their stakes and started back 
home. Immediately after breakfast, I went back 
after them and found them at the spring where I had 
camped the noon of the preceding day. Catching one 
and mounting him, I drove the other three back to 
my wagon, arriving there about sundown. There, 
standing by my wagon, and with his back to the fire, 
was a sure-enough, real, live Indian — flaming colors, 
blanket, moccasins and all. He was the genuine 
article ; the first real wild Indian I had ever seen. He 
was a Sioux. 

"How, how!" was his salutation, as I walked up to 
the wagon. 

"How are you?" I rephed. Whereupon he made 
signs indicating that he wanted me to cook him some 
supper, which I did. I performed all the work, he 
making no move to help me. When supper was over 
he went up on a knoll and remained there until dark, 
after which he returned and got into bed with me. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 78 

As I was all alone, I was certainly glad I met the 
Sioux and hoped he would continue the journey with 
me. We talked together for some time, but neither 
one could make the other understand, and we finally 
gave it up as a bad job. 

He was up before me in the morning, and back on 
'that knoll, where he remained until breakfast was 
ready. When the meal had been prepared, he came 
down and ate with me, after which he went back again 
and took his station on the knoll. "You are a whole 
lot of help to me, you are, you big, lazy loafer," was 
my mental comment. 

Presently I hitched up and started, when, much to 
my dehght, he crawled up onto the wagon, as though 
intending to accompany me on my journey. He then 
began making signs which I interpreted as wanting to 
know whether or not I had a gun in the wagon. I 
shook my head, at which he seemed much surprised, 
and inclined to doubt my word. He then began to 
search the wagon, all the while making signs about the 
gun. After my repeated efforts to convince him, he 
seemed satisfied that I was telling the truth and lay 
down in the wagon. 

That night we camped again, he, as usual, going 
out on a high point for a while. Finally coming in 
and sleeping with me again. This program was re- 
peated every day for five days. Just before sundown 
of the sixth evening, we were stopped by about fifty 
or sixty of the wildest looking Indians I ever saw, 
many of whom had not enough clothing on to flag 
a handcar. My Indian friend, who was in the wagon 
with me, began to talk Sioux to them in an excited 
manner, but, of course, I had not the remotest idea 
what they were talking about. In a few moments 
they left suddenly, after which my companion 
motioned excitedly for me to go on. This I was loath 
to do, as we were about to go into camp for the night. 



Page 79 HARDKNOCKS 

but he kept making signs for me to hurry on, at the 
same time putting his hand on my head, strongly 
suggesting the scalp act. 

I thought the heathen had gone crazy. In a 
minute or two he blurted out, "Pawnee heap shoot!" 
But still I was simpleton enough not to know what 
he meant. However, I started on and he kept me 
moving until midnight. I was very much frightened 
by his actions, as I hadn't the shghtest idea why he 
was so excited. When the night was half gone, a 
number of camp fires loomed up in the distance ahead, 
at which my Indian friend seemed much relieved. He 
then left me suddenly, without any ceremony. Seeing 
a haystack, I pulled up to it, where I unhitched my 
tired and hungry mules, after which I then turned in 
for a little sleep. 

The first thing I heard the next morning was a 
white man saying, "young feller, if you don't watch 
your harness pretty sharp, you won't have a strap 
left when these Indians get around you. They will 
steal every inch of it." I stared about me in sur- 
prise, and to my astonishment saw a great many 
Indian lodges and hundreds of Indians, including 
squaws and papooses. "Is this Deere's Trading Post ?" 
I asked. 

"Yes," was the reply, "this is Deere's Trading 
Post, for the Sioux Indians, at the Red Cloud Agency. 
Who are you, and where are you from, and how did 
you get here?" On being informed that I had come 
from Cuney & Coffee's ranch, he manifested great 
surprise. "Where are the other teams ?" he asked. 

"There are no other teams that I know of," was 
my reply. 

"Do you mean to tell me that you came alone 
from the ranch of Cuney & Coffee to this place?" 
he interrogated. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 80 

"Certainly; my only companion was an Indian 
whom I picked up on the road, and who has just left 
me, or rather, when I got in here last night." 

"Come with me," he said. And he took me into 
Deer's store near by. "Deere, here is a tenderfoot 
who came all alone from Cuney & Coffee's ranch with 
your load of canned goods." 

"Great Caesar!" exclaimed Deere. "Haven't you 
a gun?" 

"No," I replied. 

"Well," was the rejoiner, "they certainly played 
you a dirty trick sending you here all alone, and the 
only thing that saved you was having that Indian 
with you, whom you picked up." Still, I could not 
understand how the Indian had figured in my safety. 
The men around the camp tried all day to find the 
Indian who rode with me, but did not succeed in doing 
so. 

I was quite favorably impressed with Red Cloud 
Agency. It was in its infancy but beginning to assume 
large proportions. The surroundings were novel to 
me and I quickly came to the conclusion that if I 
could secure work here, I would much prefer it to 
my present job with Cuney & Coffee. Accordingly, 
I asked Dr. Seville, who was the agent, if he could 
use me as a laborer. He replied, "Yes, but you must 
first return Cuney & Coffee's team to them." I lost 
little time in preparing for my journey back to Fort 
Laramie and was taken by surprise when Ben Tib- 
betts, the man who had awakened me upon my 
arrival, asked me where I was going. I told him and 
he replied : "You fool. Don't you know that by going 
alone you would never reach the ranch? Wait here 
my boy; there are other teams going very soon and 
the men will not only be company for you, but pro- 
tection too." He also loaned me a six-shooter, which 
I was to return to him when I got back to the Agency. 






\\ 




Page 81 HARDKNOCKS 

After waiting a few days, I left in company with 
eight other teams, two of which belonged to the 
Agency and one to a Mr. Jones, who had lived among 
the Sioux for years and who was well acquainted 
with their habits and mode of life. The first night 
out we camped in some high willows on the bank of 
a stream called "Running Water." After eating 
supper we were sitting around the campfire, when 
suddenly the willows began to crash, and much to 
our surprise fifty mounted Indians appeared on the 
scene. My first thought was to jump away from the 
campfire. This I did. In doing so, I drew my six- 
shooter and when I came to my senses, as I had been 
badly frightened, I was pointing my six-shooter at an 
Indian who was mounted, but I had neglected to pull 
the trigger. I am glad I did not shoot, as we soon 
ascertained that they did not intend to harm us. Mr. 
Jones spoke to them in Sioux and was told that they 
were acting as an escort to Joe Bessnet, a half-breed, 
who was carrying the Government mail to the agency. 
In a httle while Bessnet showed up, accompanied by 
more Indians. They then took supper and went their 
way, singing one of their war songs. 

In our party was a young man named Spencer, 
who had been continually boasting of his bravery. 
After the Indians were gone Spencer was missing, 
and Jones and I went over in the direction of the 
river to search for him. We found he had secreted 
himself on a small island in the river and was badly 
frightened. He had waded almost up to his waist in 
the water to reach the island. For a long while he 
refused to leave the island and come back to the 
camp. Jones finally convinced him that there was 
no danger and he waded to the bank, a pitiful looking 
sight. Poor fellow, we joked him unmercifully the 
remainder of the trip. However, had the Indians 
intended doing us any harm, he might have been the 
only one to escape. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 82 

Before leaving, Tibbetts instructed me to remain 
at Fort Laramie and when there was a position at the 
Agency he would send me word by the agency team- 
sters. 

I got back to Fort Laramie in good shape and 
turned the team over to Cuney & Coffee and was paid 
off at the rate of forty dollars a month. It was then 
that I learned why Bowman, the barkeeper, was so 
liberal with his whiskey. And I also learned that 
Mr. Cuney had offered as high as two hundred and 
fifty dollars to the man who would take that load 
of canned goods to Deere's store. Old timers living 
in that country and knowing the dangers, would not 
attempt the trip even at that price. Bowman's object 
in supplying me with whiskey, keeping me out of sight 
and starting me off so early in the morning, was for 
the purpose of not having me meet these old timers, 
who would in all probability have warned me of the 
danger of the undertaking. 

I then procured a position, driving a six-mule team 
for the Government at Fort Laramie. Here I remained 
until November, 1873. 



Page 83 HARDKNOCKS 



CHAPTER X. 

HISTORIC HAPPENINGS AT AND AROUND FORT LARA- 
MIE PRIOR TO AND DURING MY TIME THERE- 
CUSTOMS AND HABITS OF ARMY OFFICERS- 
FRAUDS P E R P E T R A T E D— REMINISCENCES OF 
EARLY SETTLERS. 

I WILL here dwell briefly on the habits and actions 
of the army officers, stationed at these frontier 
posts. 
The majority of them were heavy gamblers, 
hard drinkers, and at times brutal in the ex- 
treme. Their gambling was with citizens who had the 
hay, wood and beef contracts with the Government. 
If the officers were heavy losers, which was frequently 
the case, they would give their I. 0. U.'s in settle- 
ment, but which they never intended to pay, and the 
citizen never dared to enforce payment, because, on 
account of their contracts, they were to a certain 
extent in the clutches of the officers. The Inspection 
Board was composed of these officers, and the reader 
can readily understand the position of the citizen 
contractor with the officer. 

I have known many loads of hay to be hauled to 
Fort Laramie, which had the night before arrival 
been damped with buckets of water and many shovels 
of sand to increase the weight. The sand and water 
would settle through the hay during the jar of the 
last day's drive. The Inspection Officer would have 
it probed with an iron rod and the load accepted or 
rejected, according to the friendly or unfriendly terms 
with the contractor. 

While I was employed at Fort Laramie as a 
teamster, there was a great fraud exposed regarding 
approximately three acres of cord wood. In the 
changing of quartermasters, the detection of this 



HARD KNOCKS Page 84 

fraud came about. The new quartermaster discovered 
that while the outside ricks of wood were all right, 
the inside ricks in numerous cases did not exist at all. 
The deception consisted of merely laying sticks across 
the intervening space to each alternate rick, leaving 
spaces that should have been ricks of wood ; thus the 
Government had been systematically robbed of many 
thousands of dollars. While the matter was hushed 
up, I noticed from that time on, the ricks were placed 
with a space between each to prevent a similar re- 
occurrence. 

Frauds of all descriptions were practiced at all the 
frontier posts, even the teamsters having their share 
of the spoils. For instance, a teamster would have 
an arrangement with the Quartermaster-Sergeant, 
who had charge of the distribution of the material 
used by teamsters. The teamster would cut his wagon 
sheet into four parts, one of which he would take to 
the sergeant for which he would receive a new wagon 
sheet in place of the quarter portion; this sheet he 
would sell to citizen freighters for five dollars. The 
freighter would cut out the letters "U. S." and fix it 
up with a patch. Of course, the sergeant received his 
half of the five dollars. 

This would be repeated each day until the teamster 
had received four new wagon sheets for his old one. 
Citizens purchased largely from Government em- 
ployees in this way. All articles had a standard value. 
Bacon was worth twenty-five cents per pound; shelled 
corn, two dollars per sack ; wall tents, fourteen dollars 
each ; canned tomatoes, fifty cents per can ; beans, two 
dollars per sack, etc., etc. In those days these frauds 
were not looked upon as a crime. If the fraud was 
discovered, the guilty ones were black-balled and 
driven from the reservation. 

I will cite one instance of brutality which is on 
record at the War Department in Washington. 



Page 85 HARDKNOCKS 

One afternoon I was in close proximity to the 
cavalry stables, when I heard a man screaming. Run- 
ning over there, I saw a soldier tied up by the thumbs, 
and Captain Mix, of M-Company, Second Cavalry 
standing close by, ordering his first sergeant and an- 
other soldier to pull him higher ; which they did, until 
his feet were clear off the floor. The weight being so 
great, the man's thumbs were pulled from the sockets. 
The officer of the day, hearing the man yell, ran down 
to him and seeing his condition ordered him lowered 
down and removed to the hospital, afterward placing 
Captain Mix under arrest. Later on. Mix was court- 
martialed, severely reprimanded, but acquitted, his 
victim having in the meantime deserted, probably 
aided by some bribe from Mix. This was what was 
termed, "whitewashing." However, from this very 
act some benefit was derived, as the War Department 
at Washington issued an order abolishing corporal 
punishment in the United States army. 

I wish to impress the reader very forcibly with the 
importance and usefulness of old Fort Laramie. This 
post was located at the junction of the Platte and 
Laramie rivers, one hundred and ten miles north of 
Cheyenne, Wyoming. It was established previous to 
1849. In that year there was a rush of "fortune 
hunters" to California for gold, and emigrants hailed 
Fort Laramie as a haven of rest. It was there they 
received a warm welcome from the citizens, composed 
mostly of trappers and hunters from the Hudson Bay 
company; there they made all the repairs to their 
outfits, shod their horses and oxen, and there was not 
then nor is there today an emigrant who has not a 
word of praise and a warm spot in his heart for dear 
old Fort Laramie. 

I have attended reunions of pioneers in Oregon, 
and it is surprising how many of these old people in 
telling of their trip across the plains, will mention 



HARD KNOCKS Page 86 

Fort Laramie. One would say, "I traded two milch 
cows that I brought all the way from Missouri, for 
a pair of horses at Fort Laramie." Another would 
say, "My oldest boy was born at Fort Laramie;" an- 
other, "John Smith was married to Betsy Brown at 
Fort Laramie," etc., etc. 

This post being in the heart of the Sioux country, 
the emigrants were furnished with military escorts 
to remain with them until they were well beyond the 
danger zone. It is a great shame that the United 
States Government abandoned this post, as it should 
have remained intact as a great historical center, on 
the old emigrant trail. It is now owned by Jack 
Hunton; most of the old buildings have been torn 
down, or have gone to rack and ruin. Hunton resides 
there, and I understand is now farming the ground 
that was formerly the post. 

This man Hunton came from Virginia and settled 
in Wyoming in 1849 and has lived there all these 
years. I met his brother, Tom, some five years ago, 
who informed me that Jack was eighty years of age, 
and in good health. He also told me that Jack kept 
a diary of all the events occurring in that country, 
and that his intention was to publish it when he 
arrived at the age of ninety years. This will be a 
very valuable book. He engaged in various pursuits, 
from a pony express rider to a large government con- 
tractor, freighter and stock raiser. He is well educated, 
liberal to a fault and has many friends, and is 
much beloved by all who know him in Wyoming. 

Another character and old timer, who is still alive 
at the ripe old age of eighty-eight, is a man by the 
name of Hi Kelly. He also rode pony express in early 
days, but later became the "Live Stock King" of 
Wyoming, owning vast herds of cattle with unlimited 
range and employing large numbers of men. He 
furnished most of the beef used by the army posts 



Page 87 HARDKNOCKS 

and became very wealthy. Among his holdings was 
a very noted ranch situated half way between Chey- 
enne and Fort Laramie. This was known as the 
Chugwater ranch, being located on a river called Chug- 
water, so named by the Indians for the following 
reasons : 

In the early days when the buffalo were numerous, 
the Indians stampeded a large herd of them, which 
they headed for a bluff two hundred feet high on the 
bank of this river. Thousands of the buffalo went 
over the bluff, landing in the river, making a noise as 
they struck the water— "Chug Chug" and thus the 
name "Chugwater." 

It is a matter of history that the Indians camped 
at this place for three months, skinning the buffalo, 
tanning their hides and drying their meat. In pass- 
ing there on our way to Fort Laramie, many a time 
we teamsters have walked over to the river and seen 
thousands of buffalo heads and many bones, which 
proves that the slaughter was immense. Kelly finally 
disposed of his holdings to a Scotch syndicate, and is 
now residing in Denver, Colorado. Like many old 
timers, Kelly took a Sioux squaw for his wife, white 
women in those days being very scarce. Unlike the 
majority of the white men, he married his squaw, 
raised a large family of children, educated them all, 
and they are today useful members of society. While 
I am writing of this great, good man, I will cite one 
instance of his wonderful loyalty to his friends. 

Jack Hunton had received a Government contract 
for a very large supply of beef and was warmly con- 
gratulated by Kelly and others, who had bid for the 
same contract. Hunton, having met with financial 
reverses, was in a quandry and stated his position to 
Kelly, who said, "Jack, you know my range and my 
cattle; take my foreman with you, and select what 
you need. When you get paid for your beef, you can 



HARD KNOCKS Page 88 

then pay me for my cattle." This was done. No 
written obhgation was necessary. Hunton's word was 
sufficient. How many men are there of today who 
could enjoy the same trust as was reposed in Jack 
Hunton? 

Another character was Butcher Phillips, a soldier 
at Fort Laramie, who acted as "post butcher" and 
who, on his discharge from the army, engaged in the 
stock business in a small way. He became very 
wealthy, owning a large number of cattle. Eventually 
he became a heavy beef contractor for these Govern- 
ment posts. 

There was also a Portugese Philips, who had a 
wonderful history in that country, as it was he who 
carried the famous dispatch from Fort Phil Kearney 
to Fort Laramie in the year 1866, announcing to the 
world the great Phil Kearney massacre by the Sioux. 
This massacre was headed by the great Sioux chief. 
Red Cloud, and was somewhat similar to the Custer 
massacre. However, it was not as disastrous as far as 
numbers were concerned, there being about one hun- 
dred massacred. 

Phil Kearney was a very isolated post, situated 
about two hundred miles northwest of Fort Laramie. 
One clear and very cold morning, when snow covered 
the ground to the depth of six inches, the Sioux 
by ruse inveigled about two-thirds of the soldiers 
stationed there to attack them. The Sioux retreating, 
this body of troops foolishly followed them into an 
ambush, where a large body of hidden Sioux attacked 
and completely annihilated them, not a man escaping. 

This left the post with but few soldiers, but with 
quite a number of women, wives of the officers and 
soldiers. The Sioux, knowing these conditions, im- 
mediately surrounded the post and for two days and 
nights held a great war dance, flaunting the scalps 
of their victims where they could plainly be seen from 



Page 89 HARDKNOCKS 

the post. The commanding officer, realizing the great 
danger, knew that their only hope for rescue was in 
getting assistance from Fort Laramie. He therefore 
called for a volunteer to run their cordon of Indians 
with a dispatch. 

Portugese Phillips, who was an ex-Hudson Bay 
hunter and who had lived for many years among the 
Sioux, having a squaw for a wife, and who at this 
time was the post interpreter, volunteered to make 
the attempt. Records show that at this time the 
thermometer registered thirty-two degrees below 
zero. 

Phillips prepared to start off, selecting a white 
horse on account of its color being similar to the 
snow and not as easily distinguished as a dark one. 
He attached a sixty foot lariat to the horse, but 
knowing that horses often shook themselves, making 
considerable noise, if saddled, he did not use either 
saddle or bridle. In taking this precaution, he avoided 
attracting the attention of the Indians. 

With a small supply of hard tack and dried meat in 
his pockets, Portugese Phillips left the post at mid- 
night on his perilous journey. He crawled on his 
knees, leading his horse, — he being sixty feet in ad- 
vance — and by daylight he had passed safely through 
the Indian lines. Then mounting his horse, he carried 
his dispatch to the commanding officer. His hands, 
knees, and feet were badly frozen, but he refused to 
remain at Fort Laramie and insisted on returning with 
the troops, stating that his squaw and children were 
among those in danger. He was put in an ambulance 
and placed in charge of two army physicians, who 
saved his limbs. 

The command arrived at Fort Kearney just in the 
nick of time, as the Indians were gradually closing in 
on their victims — when seeing the large number of 



HARD KNOCKS Page 90 



soldiers coming to the relief of the post, they retreated 
and the post was saved. Phillips, who proved himself 
a great hero, lies today in an unmarked grave some- 
where in the vicinity of Fort Laramie, and I doubt 
very much whether even if a large reward were 
offered, a single man could point out his grave. 

Another character at Fort Laramie during my time 
was an Irishman named Pat Brophy. Years before 
I knew him, he had crossed the Platte river to the 
north side and was sitting on the bank fishing, when 
five young Sioux bucks approached, one of them sud- 
denly shooting him in the abdomen. Brophy retain- 
ing his senses, knew that his only chance lay in his 
feigning he was dead, which he did. Submitting to 
being scalped by two of the Indians and after they 
had disappeared, swimming across the river, he 
crawled out on the south side and lay by a log all that 
afternoon and night, and was found there more dead 
than alive, by two soldiers the following morning. The 
soldiers immediately conveyed him to the hospital, 
where he recovered from his wounds. The top of his 
head from where the scalp was removed, partially 
healed, but up to the time of his death was a running 
materated sore. The post physicians asserted that in 
all their professional experience, they had never known 
of anyone recovering from such an injury. Their 
opinion was that by his swimming the river and the 
cold water passing through the wound, this kept the 
wound clean and allayed the fever; also, that his 
lying in the open air all night was beneficial to the 
wound. Brophy lived in this condition for a number 
of years. Imagine, if possible, dear reader, the fore- 
thought and nerve displayed by this Irishman under 
these most trying circumstances ; when a single move, 
or the batting of an eye, would have betrayed his 
wonderful cunning and caused his instant death, 

I will now close my list of the few of the many old 
characters whom I knew at Fort Laramie, by describ- 



Page 91 HARDKNOCKS 

ing one whom I considered the greatest of them all, 
from a military standpoint. 

This was Ordinance-Sergeant Snyder. Snyder 
came to this post when it was established, having 
served in the Mexican War. He was eighty-six years 
of age when I first met him in 1873. He crossed the 
plains in an ox-wagon, the military using that mode 
of transportation in those days. Snyder in his own 
estimation, having been stationed there for so long 
a time, considered himself greater than the command- 
ing officer, and was humored in this belief by the 
officers, soldiers and citizens. 

He was a disciplinarian to an extreme and to incur 
his displeasure was very detrimental to one, as it was 
an unwritten law that Snyder was to be universally 
respected. He was wounded in his left thigh during 
the Mexican war, which caused him to have a pro- 
nounced limp when walking. He always displayed six 
medals on his left breast. These had been presented 
to him by the Government at various times as rewards 
for deeds of valor, and he was decidedly proud of 
them. When meeting Snyder, citizens as well as 
soldiers were expected to salute him in regular mil- 
itary style. When officers approached him, Snyder 
invariably stood at attention and saluted, and woe be 
to the officers who did not return the salute, for he 
would immediately remind them of their military 
training and would always conclude his rebuff with 
two loud coughs. 

In addition to his duties as an Ordinance-Sergeant, 
Snyder was the garrison postmaster, which he con- 
sidered a very responsible position. All citizens and 
sodiers were compelled to go in person for their 
mail to a small room set aside as a post office, and 
unless they saluted on approaching the window, he 
would motion them aside, telling them to go and 
discipline themselves. This compelled them to take 
their places at the end of the line and again await 



HARD KNOCKS Page 92 

their turn. The officers' mail was dehvered by him in 
person, and was carried in a leather bag — which hung 
by his side, showing the inscription "Officers' U. S. 
Mail, Sergeant Snyder, Postmaster." His first call 
was to the commanding officers' quarters, and then in 
succession, according to the officer's rank, ending with 
the 2nd-Lieutenant. Should any officer of lesser rank 
than those already called on, being ignorant of the Ser- 
geant's custom, accost him and ask for his mail, the 
sergeant would salute and tell him that he would 
receive his mail at the proper time, in his turn. Army 
officers occasionally did this to try the old man, but 
the result was invariably the same. 

In 1889, having grown very old, the Government 
concluded to send him to the National Soldiers' Home. 
Being informed of this, Snyder begged piteously to be 
allowed to remain at Fort Laramie and be buried 
there. The Government refused his request and 
ordered him to leave for Cheyenne and proceed from 
there by rail, to the Home. Poor Snyder obeyed, 
saying, "orders are orders, and I never disobeyed one 
in my life." But when they drove up with an ambu- 
lance drawn by four mules, the old man cried like 
a child and stated that he had "come to that post with 
an ox-team" and requested that he be allowed to 
depart in a like manner. His last request was granted 
and a six-ox team yoked to an old wagon was secured. 
Snyder and his belongings, which consisted of many 
relics of past days, were put into the wagon, preceded 
by the post band — the wagon surrounded by officers, 
according to their rank, and every soldier in the post 
marching in the rear. Thus, the old gentleman was 
escorted to the boundaries of the reservation, where 
the band played a final tune and the soldiers fired a 
farewell salute. A suitable escort continued with him 
to Cheyenne. After arriving at the Home, he lived 
but a few months. Thus ended the life of one of the 



Page 93 HARDKNOCKS 

greatest military characters of the early days at Fort 
Laramie. 

One day during the summer of 1873, at about sun- 
down, there rode into Fort Laramie, a young girl 
of about eleven years of age, astride a spotted Indian 
pony. She was enveloped in an Indian blanket, and 
for a time was thought to be an Indian squaw. In 
dismounting, she was discovered to be a white girl. 
A soldier took her to the commanding officer, but 
before he had had a chance to question her, she had 
fainted away from exhaustion. On being revived, 
she informed him that her name was Lizze Deering 
and that a party of Sioux Indians had killed her father 
and mother, some miles up the Platte river, and that 
a Sioux squaw had given her the pony and blanket and 
directed her to ride to the post. 

The commanding officer immediately ordered a 
company of cavalry to find the spot, and also gave 
orders for an ambulance to be sent along to bring 
the bodies. I was commissioned to drive the am- 
bulance. We started off that night and the next 
morning found the wagon minus the horses. In the 
wagon was an old man killed and scalped. With her 
hands tied to the rear wheels and her feet tied to 
stakes driven in the ground, we found a middle-aged 
woman. The Indians had abused her unspeakably, 
and in addition had removed the tongue bolt from 
the wagon, heated it red hot and forced it through 
the poor woman's abdomen, the same coming out 
above her left hip. The officer in charge made notes 
of the existing conditions, ordered the bodies removed 
to the ambulance, and trailing the wagon behind, we 
returned to Fort Laramie. The young girl in the 
meantime, had told the following story: 

They had been traveling along the river bank, 
slowly; her father sitting in front driving the team, 
and she and her mother sitting back of him covered 
by the wagon sheet. Suddenly, a shot was heard 



HARD KNOCKS Page 94 

which killed her father. Immediately three young 
buck Indians jumped up in the front of the wagon, 
she and her mother quickly jumping out from the 
rear. They were at once seized by three other Indians, 
and tying the girl to a cottonwood tree and the mother 
as previously described, they commenced their ill- 
treatment of the elder woman and thus subjected the 
young girl to witness the horrible torture of her 
mother. 

Suddenly, there appeared a young squaw, who 
compelled the Indians to release her. The squaw 
ordered the Indians away, and after taking the horses 
and all articles of value, they left. Quieting the child, 
the squaw gave her the pony and blanket and started 
her for the post. This was the first known instance 
of the kind that had ever occurred among the Sioux, 
as the squaws were generally known to be more vicious 
with a white person, and particularly with one of their 
own sex. 

No one in that country could understand the 
squaw's reason for treating the young girl so kindly. 
Later on, the commanding officer, on inquiry through 
the post interpreter who was a squaw-man, learned 
that this young Indian girl was the daughter of a 
chief and that she had used her power to compel these 
young bucks to release this girl, but no one knows to 
this day what prompted her to do so. It is possible 
that the post interpreter's squaw knew, but if she 
did, she never made it known. Perhaps it was sisterly 
instinct, or perhaps an act of the Supreme Being, 
that made her deviate from the cruel Indian custom 
and perform an act of mercy. 

The Deering family were from Pike county, Mis- 
souri, and their destination was Oregon. This young 
girl remained in Fort Laramie for some time, but was 
finally located by her uncle, who took her back to 
Missouri. 



Page 95 HARDKNOCKS 

During the conversation with Tom Hunton some 
years ago, I alluded to this massacre. He told me 
that on the very spot where that wagon stood, a stone 
monument had been erected by the women of Wy- 
oming, with an appropriate inscription of the details 
of the massacre. In addition to this, they also pre- 
sented to the Chief's daughter, who is now an old 
woman, living at Pine Ridge Agency, a medal made 
from gold mined in Wyoming. On one side of the 
medal is an engraving of the wagon and on the re- 
verse side, suitable words of explanation. Tom also 
informed me that she valued the medal very highly 
and wears it continually. 

In 1867, prior to my time in Wyoming, the Gov- 
ernment issued to the troops at Fort Phil Kearney, 
a breech-loading gun, called the Spencer carbine, the 
first of the kind used in that particular part of the 
country. They being out of wood at the post, the 
commanding officer detailed twenty-five six-mule 
teams to haul a fresh supply. The wood was at a 
point twenty miles distant from the post. He also 
furnished an escort of fifty infantry soldiers, as the 
Sioux were very dangerous, having the year pre- 
viously committed a massacre at that post. The In- 
dians knew nothing of these repeating guns, and the 
officer in charge of the escort was well aware of 
this fact. 

The teams had not proceeded far on their mission 
when they were attacked by a large body of Sioux. 
The officer corraled the teams and instructed the men 
not to fire until they could see the white of the In- 
dians' eyes and when he gave the order to fire, to 
pump it in fast. The Indians were in the habit of 
forcing fire, and then charging, thinking the troops 
were armed with the old muzzle-loading guns. Finally 
the officer gave the command to fire. After the first 
volley, the Indians charged in a body; and such a 



HARD KNOCKS Page 96 

surprise they received, resulting in some eighty being 
killed, which taught them a lesson for future con- 
sideration. Prior to making this attack, they had 
stationed their squaws and families on a high hill, 
expecting to witness another Phil Kearney massacre; 
but after receiving this warm reception, they and their 
squaws made a very hasty retreat — less in number, 
but wiser in experience. And for many years these 
Indians had a great horror of the "foot soldiers" — as 
they termed the infantry. 



Page 97 HARDKNOCKS 



CHAPTER XI. 

GREAT POWER INVESTED IN COMMANDING OFFICERS 
OF THE FRONTIER POSTS— LIEUTENANT ROBINSON 
KILLED BY INDIANS— A NUT FOR SCIENTISTS TO 
CRACK— THE BARREN SPOT ON THE PRAIRIE- 
AMUSING INCIDENTS. 

I WISH to give the reader an idea of the power 
assumed by the commanding officers of the var- 
ious frontier posts, and would ask the reader 
that he kindly bear in mind that these posts were 
situated a long way from civilization. 
The commanding officers had the power to do any- 
thing they chose to either a soldier or a citizen. The 
latter they seemed to dislike very much, and in many 
cases were very severe with them. Many, like myself, 
following the occupation of a government teamster, 
were compelled to take any insults the officers would 
thrust upon them, knowing well that if they offended 
the officer, he would drive them from the post and, 
what was then termed, "blackball" them, and in 
order to get another position, the teamster would 
have to go to some other post and change his name. 
I have met in my life a few old government teamsters, 
who had changed their names so often that if one 
should call them by their real name, they would 
hesitate before responding, as they had almost for- 
gotten it. 

In my time at Fort Laramie the commanding 
officer was General Smith. He was a very severe 
man and greatly disHked by both soldier and citizen. 
He was quite old at the time I knew him, with gray 
hair, and a large military mustache, and a goatee. 
This gave him a fierce look. He always wore a 
military cloak, which was lined with a bright red 
material and the comer of this he would throw over 



HARD KNOCKS Page 98 

his left shoulder, exposing the lining, and with his 
gold handled sword at his side, in his estimation he 
was lord of all he surveyed. The soldiers used to 
say that if by mistake he looked kindly at one of 
them, he would go to his quarters and have his orderly 
tie him to a post and horsewhip him. This was what 
the soldiers called "doing penance." 

One day I was leading three mules with halters 
on; attached to them were chain halters shanks. I 
was taking the mules to the blacksmith's shop to be 
shod. A government mule is very hard to lead, 
especially away from the corral, and I was having a 
difficult time with them. Suddenly a soldier said to 
me, "General Smith wants to see you." I asked him 
where. He motioned his head toward the parade 
grounds — there stood General Smith. The soldier 
was his orderly. I tied the mules to a nearby post 
and walked up to "His Majesty." He asked me where 
I was going with those mules. I told him to the 
blacksmith's shop. He grunted, turned his head and 
walked away. He never knew what passed through 
my mind. I returned to my mules and completed my 
journey. 

The gala day in these isolated posts once a month, 
was "dress parade." All soldiers turned out, including 
the band. They arranged seats on the edge of the 
parade grounds for the officers' wives and visiting 
friends. Citizens employees also attended, but they 
were supposed to take up their position on the opposite 
side of the parade ground. The soldiers marched 
around, the band played martial airs, led by "His 
Majesty" the General. When this was over, the 
officers and their wives, and visiting friends, would 
parade arm in arm, praising and criticising. 

I had a teamster friend whom I bunked with 
while at the post, our sleeping quarters being en- 
closed by a corral, on the opposite side from where the 



Page 99 HARDKNOCKS 

mules were stabled. This boy's name was Charley 
O'Brien. He was a very wild young fellow and 
absolutely fearless. We had had a pay day about 
this time, and he and I went up the river one after- 
noon to a ranch where they sold whiskey and where 
they also had three or four girls with whom we could 
dance. There were many of these ranches in the 
vicinity of the post and they were called "Hog 
Ranches." Why so called, I could not say, as I never 
saw any hogs around them, but think that perhaps 
it had reference to the girls as they were a very low, 
tough set. 

We stayed there that night until about ten o'clock, 
returning to the post pretty well filled up with "bug 
juice," commonly called whiskey. In crossing the 
corral, O'Brien remarked: 

"Tomorrow is dress parade!" 

General Smith had a very fine horse which he rode 
at these parades. To take care of this horse, he had 
a soldier detailed and whom the soldiers termed "dog 
robber." All officers had soldier servants and they 
were all known by the same name. Why this was 
given them, I am unable to state. However, O'Brien 
suggested that we go to the stable in the corner of 
the corrall where this horse was and together shave 
his tail. At first I refused, but O'Brien explained to 
my satisfaction that General Smith would blame the 
"dog-robber" or some other soldier, and never would 
suspect a citizen. I finally agreed, and getting a candle 
and shears, we started off to the stable, I holding the 
candle while O'Brien clipped the hair from the horse's 
tail. The poor horse, not having had this kind of 
treatment before, could not understand it. He would 
turn his head around, looking first at one and then 
the other, and I really felt sorry for him. However, 
we finished the job and lo, and behold! such a change 
in a horse, you can't imagine. His tail, while larger 



HARD KNOCKS Page 100 

than a rat's, looked very similar to one. We gathered 
up the hair the best we could, hiding it in a pile of 
manure. We then went to our bunk. 

Teamsters were compelled to rise early in the 
morning. But O'Brien and I, not feeling very well, 
remained in bed longer than the balance. We were 
finally awakened by a loud noise in the corral. Dress- 
ing ourselves hurriedly, we went out to the corral. 
There we found the "dog robber" with all the team- 
sters standing around him. He was waving his hands 
in the air and moaning like a man in great pain. 

"My God," he was saying, "the General will kill 
me when hears of this." 

O'Brien, stepping up to him said: "My good man, 
go at once and report this before the soldier escapes 
who committed this dastardly act." 

But the poor fellow was afraid to do so. O'Brien 
then told him he would go up with him. This quieted 
him, and together they went to General Smith's quar- 
ters, O'Brien making the report. The General imme- 
diately came down to the corral, looked at the horse, 
and turning around to O'Brien, said : "My man, I will 
give you five hundred dollars if you will find the sol- 
dier or soldiers who committed this act." 

O'Brien bowed respectfully and told the General he 
would try his best to earn the reward. Tne expres- 
sion on the General's face was a sight never to be for- 
gotten. His face was naturally red, but in his great 
anger it turned a bluish cast. He coughed a few times 
and throwing his head erect, strutted back to his quar- 
ters, the maddest man in Fort Laramie. There was 
no dress parade that day. About an hour after Gen- 
eral Smith had left, the horse was taken away, — to 
where I cannot say, for no one ever saw him again 
at Fort Laramie in my time. 

In 1892 I was employed to manage a transfer com- 
pany in Tacoma, Washington. After taking charge 



Page 101 HARDKNOCKS 

and in looking over the books, we found a great many- 
old unpaid bills. I suggested to the president of the 
company, "Woody Sprague," that we employ a young 
man who had the ability to collect these old bills, also 
suggesting that we pay him a liberal commission. He 
agreed with me and we inserted an advertisement in 
the daily paper. Six persons answered the advertise- 
ment. The matter being in my hands, I interviewed 
these applicants, and finally selected a young man 
whom, in my judgment, I thought the best fitted for 
the position. His name was L. Smith. 

After Smith had been working there for about 
two weeks, he happened to hear me mention "Fort 
Laramie," and asked me if I had ever lived there. I 
told him yes, and that I used to drive a six-mule team 
at that post. He then informed me that he was born 
there. 

"Why !" I said, "you are the son of General Smith 
then, aren't you?" 

He rephed, "Yes, did you know my father?" 

I told him I did and asked him where his father 
was, and if alive. 

"Why, yes," he answered. "He is living here on the 
retired list." 

He also said that when he went home that night 
he would tell his father, adding, that if his father felt 
well enough, he would bring him down to see me. 

I made no reply to this, well knowing that if the 
General was as he used to be, he would not come ; but 
to my great surprise, the following afternoon at about 
three o'clock in walked the young man with his father. 

The General still wore his military cloak with one 
side thrown over his shoulder, and did not look a day 
older than he did at Fort Laramie. The young man 
introduced us. The General did not shake hands or 



HARD KNOCKS Page 102 

bow, but said: "My son informs me that you were 
at Fort Laramie during the time I was in command 
there?" 

"I replied, "Yes, sir." 

He coughed once or twice, saying: "I am always 
pleased to meet anyone who has lived at Fort 
Laramie." Looking around, he then remarked, "This 
is quite a concern!" referring to the transfer busi- 
ness. Without further comment, he left the office, 
his son accompanying him. This ended our meeting. 

The following morning I asked his son what his 
father thought of the "ex-mule-skinner," and if in his 
lifetime he had ever heard his father speak of the 
"tail-shaving" incident. He looked at me for a mo- 
ment and then said, "No ; but I have heard my mother 
mention it, but she has warned us never to discuss 
the matter in father's presence, which we never do." 

He then went on: "If you will not be offended I 
will answer your questions regarding what my father 
thinks of you." 

I assured him I would not. 

He then told me that his father had said, "That 
fellow looks all right; but I never knew him at Fort 
Laramie, as I always detested teamsters," and advised 
him not to become too familiar with me, as his past 
experience had taught him that teamsters were a d — 
bad set. 

I then told him to tell his mother, and through 
her his father, that if that five hundred dollar reward 
still stood good, I was sure I could produce one of the 
men who helped shave the horse's tail. 

The boy laughed and said, "I would not approach 
father on the subject again if you were to present 
me with a thousand dollars, as it would greatly annoy 
my mother, and am sure it would hasten my father's 



Page 103 HARDKNOCKS 

death," and I judged from his remark that it was a 
forbidden subject in their family. The young man 
continued in our employ until I quit the transfer com- 
pany. His father, I heard, died four years later. 

In the year 1870 the Government installed a port- 
able sawmill at a point named Harney's Peak, forty 
miles north of Fort Laramie, their intention being to 
manufacture lumber to be used at the Fort. The In- 
dians became very troublesome, however, and the Gov- 
ernment was forced to remove the machinery to Fort 
Laramie and there erect the sawmill. In the early 
spring of 1873 they detailed twenty-five teams to 
transport some of the logs, I being one of the team- 
sters. We had an infantry escort commanded by Lieu- 
tenant Robinson. On returning from this trip, Rob- 
inson took with him his first sergeant and his orderly. 
All three were mounted. Leaving the teams early in 
the morning, he told the wagonmaster that he would 
meet us in camp about four o'clock in the afternoon 
and that he would ride across country and kill a deer, 
the second lieutenant being left in charge of the 
escort. 

We made camp about four o'clock and were about 
to unharness the mules, when the orderly suddenly 
appeared on foot and informed us that Lieutenant 
Robinson and the sergeant had been killed by the In- 
dians. He very much exaggerated his story by ex- 
citedly saying that half of the Sioux nation were on 
the war path. The heutenant in command ordered the 
boys to unload the logs, and if one ever wanted to 
see soldiers work, they could surely have seen them 
then. These logs that would ordinarily have taken a 
full hour to unload were oif the wagons in five min- 
utes. Soldiers climbing on the running gears of the 
wagons, we started for the post. The mules seemed 
to scent the danger, and in a few minutes were on a 
wild run. All was excitement. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 104 

I looked back once or twice from my saddle mule 
and it was surely a laughable sight to see those sol- 
diers bouncing like rubber balls and hanging on for 
dear life. Many of them dropped their guns, being 
unable to hold on to the wagon and their guns as well. 
What we most wanted was to get to the post, where 
we arrived at midnight. 

I don't know what the lieutenant reported to the 
commanding officer, but I do know that I was routed 
out of my blankets by the wagonmaster about four 
A. M. and told to hitch up four mules to an ambulance 
and report to the commanding officer, where I found 
two companies of cavalry ready to start in search of 
the bodies. Taking the still frightened orderly along, 
we left on the gallop, finding the bodies about eight 
o'clock in the morning on the bank of a stream, both 
killed and scalped. On being more closely questioned, 
the orderly admitted that there were but five Indians 
in the party, whom we presumed were merely hunt- 
ing. He also stated that Lieutenant Robinson, on see- 
ing the Indians approach, ran off, the sergeant follow- 
ing. The orderly dismounting, secreted himself in the 
rocks and was not molested, the Indians merely taking 
his horse, but they follov/ed Robinson and the ser- 
geant, killing both of them. 

In the year 1869, prior to my time, the telegraph 
line between Fort Fetterman and Laramie became 
grounded. They dispatched from Fort Fetterman a 
sergeant and four soldiers with a six-mule team to 
repair this line. They discovered about four miles 
from the post that the wire had broken loose from 
the top of the telegraph pole. This pole was situated 
at the head of a little canyon or wash-out. The ser- 
geant ordered a soldier to carry the wire up and at- 
tach it, the three other men staying in the wagon 
with the team. While this man was up the pole, f^ve 



pir> 



^ 




Page 105 HARDKNOCKS 

young Sioux Indians crawled up this canyon, shooting 
and killing him. The team became frightened, run- 
ning back to Fort Fetterman, leaving the sergeant 
alone. He, seeing the Indians, also ran toward the 
post. When he got about twenty steps on the north 
side of the wagon road, the Indians shot him. They 
then scalped and mutilated the body horribly, and it 
is said, cut out his heart, and also cut his ears and 
nose off. The team in the meantime having arrived 
at the post, they immediately sent soldiers out to look 
for the sergeant and private. Finding the sergeant 
as stated, and after removing him, they drove a large 
stake where his head lay, putting on this stake an old 
buffalo skull. 

When I went into that country, I heard the story 
many times that where that body lay, grass had never 
grown after the kilhng, while all around it was the 
very finest of grass. This spot was situated on the 
top of what was called La Bonte Hill. The first time 
I went to Fetterman, several other teamsters and my- 
self examined this spot; in fact, all teams or horse- 
men going by and knowing of this phenomenon, 
always examined it. I have seen it myself twenty 
times and am satisfied in my mind that this spot at 
one time was a deserted ant hill, which the elements 
had flattened down. 

While in Cheyenne, Wyoming, in 1912, I met a 
great many old-timers, and in talking with them I 
mentioned the incident. They all remembered it well. 
One of them, Bob Carson, said he had visited the spot 
two weeks prior to this time and that it was still 
barren. Old-timers believed that this grass was 
killed by the blood of the sergeant. I remarked that 
I thought it was an old ant hill. They looked at me 
a little while, one of them saying: "Young, since you 
have been living in large cities and meeting these d — 
fool scientists, they have talked that into your head. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 106 

We have had four or five of them tell us the same 
thing," and to a man they stuck to the theory that 
the blood had killed the grass. A year ago my old 
friend, Hi Kelley, while visiting his son in Portland, 
took dinner at my house. I happened to mention this 
subject to him and he immediately said, "Yes, that 
place is barren yet; made so by the blood of the poor 
sergeant." 

While at Fort Laramie many amusing incidents 
happened ; incidents which were so ludricous as to up- 
set the dignity of the company commanders, and on 
various occasions that of the commanding officer. 

I recall three such incidents. A recruit was sent 
out to Laramie and for some days he got along very 
well, but when one of the old-timers called his atten- 
tion to the fact that he had been eating with the mess 
for some days without butter checks, he asked where 
they were obtained. A soldier named Mickey Flinn 
informed him that the captain always issued such as 
were needed. The recruit immediately set out in 
search of the captain. His blouse was unbuttoned and 
his round-topped army cap sat at an angle of 40 de- 
grees on his head. Knocking on the door, the cap- 
tain, who was known as a strict disciplinarian, 
appeared. 

"Say, cap," said the recruit, "by heck, I have got 
to have some of them butter checks." 

"Some what?" exploded the captain. 

"Butter checks, I gad, butter checks, 'cause them 
d — fools down at the cook house won't let me eat 
any more until I get 'em." 

The captain looked at the man and grabbing his 
cap from his head, started for the company quarters, 
where he met the first sergeant of the company, ask- 
ing him who sent this man to his quarters dressed in 



Page 107 HARDKNOCKS 

such an unmilitary costume, demanding butter checks. 
"What does it mean?" 

The recruit spoke up, saying, "The sergeant is not 
the man who sent me." 

The captain then asked him if he could point out 
the man who did. He rephed, "Yes." 

They then formed the company in hne, and walk- 
ing down looking at first one and then the other, 
pointed out Flinn as the man, who denied the charge, 
and calling on the other men who substantiated the 
denial. The captain could retain himself no longer, 
and throwing the recruit's cap on the floor, burst out 
in a roar of laughter, and walking from the quarters, 
turned around at the door, and in a loud voice ordered 
the sergeant to give the man some butter checks. 

Between the parade ground and the Platte River 
were situated three very large stacks of hay, which 
were quite a distance from the guard house. Around 
those stacks of hay night and day was stationed a 
guard, whose duty it was to walk around them. It 
came a recruit's time to take this post. His hours 
were from ten o'clock at night until two o'clock in the 
morning. This was considered a very lonely post. 
About fifty yards below the stacks was an old Indian 
burying ground. The older soldiers confidentially told 
this recruit that at the hour of twelve, midnight, the 
spirits of these departed Indians often appeared. They 
warned him not to shoot at these spirits as it was 
useless, but if any did appear, to shoot his gun in the 
air and they would come to his relief. The day pre- 
vious they had taken a soldier to the hospital who 
had an ulcerated tooth, the pain of which made him 
dehrious. About midnight he walked out of the hos- 
pital with a bed sheet thrown over his head and shoul- 
ders. He wandered down by the hay stacks toward 
the Platte River. This recruit, seeing him in that 
garb, knew at once that he was one of the Indian 



HARD KNOCKS Page 108 

spirits, and as directed, shot his gun in the air, when 
the corporal of the guard and two soldiers went to his 
assistance. By the time they arrived there, the sup- 
posed spirit had disappeared. They then told the re- 
cruit that he was nervous and imagined he saw this 
spirit. However, he insisted strongly that he was sure 
he had seen one and refused to stand guard any 
longer. They finally compelled him to do so. 

The next morning the post surgeon in going 
through the hospital, discovered that the soldier with 
the ulcerated tooth was missing, and hearing of the 
incident related, instructed that search be made for 
him. They found him lying on his stomach on the 
river bank with his head in the water, dead — presum- 
ably drowned. 

Another recruit, hearing his companions talking 
about post guard and not knowing what it meant, 
asked the corporal what one did on post guard. The 
corporal replied, "Don't show your ignorance before 
the soldiers, as they will josh you. Go get your gun 
and come with me and I will instruct you." 

They walked out to the rear of the quarters, the 
corporal picking up a large wagon spoke and an axe, 
with which he drove the spoke in the ground, leaving 
an exposure of about a foot. He then instructed the 
recruit to hold his gun with both hands and balance 
himself by standing on this stake with one foot, and 
when he got so that he could do so, he would be pre- 
pared to stand post guard. The corporal then in- 
formed the rest of the company what he had done and 
through the windows they watched this fellow for a 
half hour, trying to balance himself on the stake. 
Finally he gave it up, marching into the quarters, 
when, of course, they all laughed at him. 



Page 109 HARDKNOCKS 



CHAPTER XII. 

THE SLEEP OF THE JUST— IN THE PLATTE RIVER- 
GOVERNMENT'S CIVILIZING OF THE SIOUX— LIGHT 
ON INDIAN POLICIES— ORIGIN OF THE SIOUX IN- 
DIAN FUED— A DRUNKEN OFFICER AND A THIRTY- 
DOLLAR COW — AN AGENCY EMPLOYEE — THE 
WHITE MAN WITH THE REMARKABLE EYE— QUEER 
EXPERIENCES WITH THE SIOUX— SOME OF THE 
FAMOUS CHIEFS. 

IN November, 1873, there arrived at Fort Laramie 
two teams from Red Cloud Agency, driven by Pat 
Simmons and Mike Dunn. They informed me that 
I could now get a position on the Agency and that 
they were on their way to Cheyenne for suppHes, 
and would return in seven days, and instructed me to 
meet them on the south side of the Platte River, at the 
lower crossing, twenty-five miles east of Fort Laramie, 
as they would camp there that night. As per this 
agreement I left Fort Laramie on the morning of the 
seventh day and walked the entire distance, alone. The 
Platte River is a very treacherous stream and full of 
quicksand, but at certain places it can be crossed, 
owing to a gravel bottom. These places were called 
fords, the location of which it was necessary for one 
to know in crossing the stream, to avoid getting into 
the quicksands. Should one, in crossing unfortunately 
miss the ford, there would be great danger in losing 
his team and wagon. I have known instances where 
they had gotten into the quicksand, barely escaping 
with their own lives or the lives of their teams, as it 
was utterly impossible to get the wagons out. In one 
case, a wagon entirely disappeared in forty-eight 
hours. 

On my journey to this crossing, owing to the sandy 
road, I walked very slowly, and darkness overtook me 



HARD KNOCKS Page 110 

before my arrival. Becoming bewildered, I strayed 
out into the sand hills and came to the realization that 
I was lost, but knowing that the Platte River lay in 
a northerly direction, I started that way and finally 
found it about midnight. Tired and cold and being 
without blankets, I tried to find some driftwood with 
which to make a fire, but the night being so dark, I 
was unsuccessful. I then walked back from the river 
to keep warm and stumbled onto an old cock of hay 
which had been left by Government contractors, they 
having left it there while cutting wild hay. I lifted 
it up and crawled under it. In time my shelter be- 
came warm, and hungry and footsore, I fell asleep. 
However, before doing so, I heard a noise that struck 
me with terror, — the howling of wolves! 

My feelings can better be imagined than described, 
and it was only from sheer exhaustion that I fell 
asleep. When I awoke, the sun was well up in the 
heavens. The teams had crossed the river and I found 
that I was two miles above the ford. I took my 
clothes off, tied them in a bundle on my head and 
waded into that cold Platte River. I got along all 
right until near the north side, when I unfortunately 
got off the ford and into the quicksand. I now found 
my progress exceedingly slow and difficult. When I 
tried to step ahead, my foot would be fast in the sand, 
and it was only by continually plunging that I was 
able to reach the shore in a very exhausted condition. 
I dressed and went to a ranch kept by a squaw-man 
named "Nick Jannesse." I asked him if he had seen 
the Agency teams. He said yes, that they had broken 
camp four hours ago. He gave me breakfast and I 
started after them, catching up with them about noon 
in the sand hills. The boys were very glad to see me, 
but not more so than I was to see them. They had 
thought I was not coming. We arrived at the Agency 
in due time and I reported to Dr. Seville, who took 



Page 111 HARDKNOCKS 

me into his office to give me instructions as one of his 
employees. 

To have the reader understand the situation as it 
existed in the summer of 1873, I will explain on what 
plan they proposed to civilize the Sioux. 

The Indians at that time were in the hands of the 
Interior Department of the Government, their inten- 
tion being to civihze them through kindness, the mili- 
tary having nothing whatever to do with them. At 
this time the Sioux domain comprised all lands from 
the British Northwest as far south as Wyoming and 
east to Nebraska. The Platte River was the dividing 
line. Fort Laramie was the nearest post to the 
Agency. 

Before giving my experiences while on Red Cloud 
Agency, I wish to take the reader back some years 
before my time. I think in the fifties or early sixties, 
a certain officer in Fort Laramie owned a cow worth 
thirty dollars. This cow by some means strayed 
across the Platte River, where there was a large camp 
of Sioux Indians. One of the Indians killed this cow. 
The officer who owned it, took a few soldies over to 
the Indian camp and demanded from the chief the 
Indian who killed the cow. This officer was drunk at 
the time. His demand was met with refusal, where- 
upon he shot the chief, killing him. Prior to this time 
the Indians were friendly with the whites. They 
would steal their horses but were not in open war, as 
was the case after this occurrence. I cannot recall 
this officer's name or the name of the chief killed, 
but doubtless their names as well as the circumstances 
can be found on record in the War Department at 
Washington. 

A few days after this incident a company of sol- 
diers were on the south side of the Platte, about 
twenty-five miles below Fort Laramie. They were not 
aware of the trouble on account of the cow. The In- 



HARD KNOCKS Page 112 

dians, about one thousand in number, attacked and 
killed the entire company, numbering sixty. They 
were all buried in the same grave near where they 
fell, with the exception of the lieutenant in command, 
who was taken to Fort Laramie. After this it was 
war to the death between Sioux and white man. It 
was all caused by a drunken officer and an old thirty- 
dollar cow; and many whites have lost their lives 
since then through this occurrence. 

I will now return to the Agency. Dr. Seville, the 
agent, of whom I have before made mention, came 
from Sioux City, Iowa. He was a fine man and I 
understand he left a large practice in Sioux City to 
take this position. His salary was not large but there 
were many ways for him to make money independent 
of his salary. Dr. Seville explained to me how I 
should act. First, I was not to carry any firearms. 
I was not to resent any insults from an Indian, no 
matter what he said or did to me ; I was to treat them 
kindly, etc. 

"Now," said Seville, "if you are sure you can live 
up to those rules, you may go to work. Your wages 
will be one hundred dollars per month and found." 

I accepted his terms and became an employe of 
the Agency. There were twenty-one of us employed 
there, Otis Johnson being chief clerk. Others whom 
I recall were Mart Gibbons, who was corral boss ; Ben 
Tibbetts, agency butcher; Paddy Simmons, Mike 
Dunne and Dutch Joe, teamsters. Tom Monahan was 
boss carpenter; Mr. Appleton was agency farmer, and 
we also had there a negro named "Alec," who later 
put on a breech-clout and becarne a full-fledged Sioux 
warrior. I often wonder what; ever became of this 
negro. He is worthy of mention. He was about 
twenty-five years of age, perfectly built and very in- 
telligent. He spoke the Sioux language fluently and 
was a great favorite with the tribe. He gradually 



Page 113 HARDKNOCKS 

adopted their ways from preference, it evidently be- 
ing the height of his ambition to become one of them. 

The first day I worked I was carrying a board on 
my shoulder, when a young buck caught it by the end, 
and swinging it around, knocked me down. I jumped 
up and ran at him, mad as a March hare. Some one 
yelled at me, "Look out, Young! You will lose your 
job if you hit him." I remembered my instructions 
from the agent and stopped. 

These Sioux were very mischievous and were con- 
tinually playing tricks on us boys. We also had on 
the Agency a character named Molasses Bill, this 
name being given him on account of his love for 
molasses. He was employed as a carpenter and had 
one glass eye. One day Bill and I were on the roof 
of the commissary putting on tar paper. The wind 
was blowing hard as it often did, and the air was full 
of fine sand, which got into Bill's eye, causing him 
much annoyance. This compelled him to remove the 
glass eye and wipe it off with his handkerchief. An 
Indian named Grass saw the act and was much sur- 
prised to know that we had a white man who could 
remove his eye at will. Grass motioned him down 
from the building and with other Indians made him 
remove the eye again. In doing so, the Indians all set 
up a great howl and thought Bill the wonder of the 
age, and Bill for the next few days was kept busy 
taking out and putting in that glass eye. After some 
days it seemed to affect his head and he became in- 
sane. The agent was finally compelled to furnish him 
with an Indian escort and send him to Fort Laramie. 

I will here mention a few names of the chiefs and 
more prominent Indians, but before doing so will ex- 
plain how Indians derive their names. 

The Indians do not christen their children but se- 
lect names from some act which has attracted an older 
Indian while the one named is in his infancy. For 



HARD KNOCKS Page 114 

instance, take the name "Man Afraid of His Horses." 
This particular name was given him when a child by- 
some older Indian having seen him afraid of horses. 
As he grew into manhood, he was called "Man Afraid 
of His Horses," and while I lived on the Agency this 
Indian had a grown son, and to distinguish him from 
his father, he was called "Young Man Afraid of His 
Horses." There was no exception to this rule and 
there is no doubt that their names were derived in 
this way. 

"Red Cloud" was the acknowledged chief of the 
Agency and the most powerful. Their power origi- 
nated from two causes. "Red Cloud" was a great 
warrior in his early days ; while other Indians, for in- 
stance, "Little Wound," got his great power from 
the number of his relatives. They were divided into 
bands. There was "Red Cloud's" band, "Little 
Wound's" band, "Man Afraid of His Horses' " band, 
etc. Then again, they had great diplomats. One 
was "Spotted Tail." He would be ranked in the same 
order as our great James G. Blaine or Roscoe Conk- 
ling, and all treaties formed with other tribes or with 
the United States Government, were submitted to 
him before being ratified, and it was from this trait 
of character that he was all-powerful. 

Referring to "Little Wound" reminds me of the 
night mentioned when I made my tenderfoot trip with 
my Indian companion. The reason for my companion's 
excitement was that "Little Wound's" band of braves 
had been on a hunting expedition in the eastern part 
of Wyoming, where they ran across a camp of old 
men and women of the Pawnee tribe. The young 
Pawnee bucks being out on the hunt and having left 
the old men and women in camp, this "Little Wound's" 
band killed them all, amounting to about one hundred, 
and these young bucks were returning to the Agency 
the night we met them on the road; they had heard 



Page 115 HARD KNOCKS 

from their scouts that the Pawnee Indians were about 
to attack the Sioux in retahation for killing their old 
men and women. I afterward saw them in their war 
dance with those poor old folks' scalps. This I will 
explain later. 

Another powerful and notorious Indian was 
"Sword," who was a very bad one whom we much 
feared. He had been wounded in the groin by a white 
man some years before, which made him hate the 
white race, and knowing his hatred for the white man, 
we always kept at a safe distance until we knew he 
had left the Agency. He afterward died from the 
wound. Another very prominent Indian, "American 
Horse," and who was very friendly to the whites, had 
a national reputation, having visited the Great Father 
at Washington in company with other Sioux chiefs, 
and where he had promised the Government that he 
would use his great influence and his best endeavors 
to keep the Indians from killing the whites, stealing 
their horses, and committing other depredations, 
which he did to the best of his ability. I will speak 
of him later and show how he kept his word. 

Another Indian character was "Chief Grass" of 
whom I have spoken proviously. Grass could speak 
English fairly well and he had a very comprehensive 
brain. For instance, we built a sawmill nine miles 
from the Agency with which we cut the lumber to 
construct the buildings. Grass one day, with some 
other Indians, wanted to see this mill in operation. 
The boss sawyer of the mill was named Charley. 
Charley was quite a loafer and did not keep the mill 
in operation half of the time. I was delegated by the 
agent to go out to this sawmill with these Indians. 
When we arrived there, the mill was not in operation. 
Grass turned around to me and remarked: 
"What's the matter? Mill no run." 
I replied, "Ask Charley ; he's boss man here." 



HARD KNOCKS Page 116 

Grass did so. 

Charley replied, "I have to gum the saw." 

Grass looked at him a while and said, "Me think 
you no good. Too much loaf all the time. Dam big 
expense on us Indians." 

Then turning to me, he said: "You good man. 
You start mill up." 

I had a hard time explaining to Grass that I knew 
nothing about running a sawmill. They then looked 
the mill over and we returned to the Agency. Grass 
called on the agent and entered a strong complaint 
against Charley. After counselling some time, the 
agent finally promised that he would see that the mill 
was kept running in future, and this seemed to satisfy 
old Grass. 

Another prominent and very bad Indian was "Red 
Dog." He always wore a hunting jacket made en- 
tirely of scalps that he himself had taken during his 
lifetime. In the back of this jacket was a woman's 
scalp. She in life was a white woman and a blonde. 
I suppose he killed and scalped her in the Minnesota 
massacre years prior to this time, as he took a very 
active part in that affair. I could have purchased that 
jacket at one time for about five dollars worth of 
powder and lead, and wished in later days that I had 
done so, as today it would be worth a large sum of 
money. 



Page 117 HARDKNOCKS 



CHAPTER XIII. 

MORE NOTED SIOUX CHARACTERS— SITTING BULL'S 
RIGHT BOWER IN THE CUSTER MASSACRE— BEN 
TIBBETT'S GOOD ADVICE— INDIANS AS BEGGARS 
AND DRINKERS— RED CLOUD'S BOY— SAVED FROM 
RED CLOUD'S "BAD HEART"— A HIGH-GRADE IN- 
DIAN FUNERAL— RED CLOUD AND HIS FINAL 
HAND-WASHING. 

IN the preceding chapter I mentioned a number of 
prominent as well as bad Sioux. I next recall Big 
Foot, who took a big part in the Custer massacre. 
He was Sitting Bull's right-hand bower in that 
affair. There were also many lesser lights called 
Indian soldiers. 

The most popular white man on the Agency was 
Ben Tibbetts. He was employed as agency butcher. 
His duty was to take care of the old, discarded 
squaws and men. He had lived among the Indians 
for a great many years and knew a great many of 
them ; spoke their language, knew their habits and had 
an Indian squaw for a wife. This man took a great 
interest in me and gave me some good advice regard 
ing the Sioux. He told me never to give them any- 
thing, and that they were awful beggars. For in- 
stance, if one gave a Sioux fifty cents, the next day 
he would want a dollar, and if refused, he became an 
enemy. I took Ben's advice, only varying from it on 
one occasion. 

There was an old Indian named Gray Eyes, who 
spoke Enghsh quite well, and one day he told me his 
papoose was awful sick and that if he could secure 
some red apples he had seen at the trading store, he 
knew that they would make him well. These apples 
would cost twenty-five cents. Instead of buying the 



HARD KNOCKS Page 118 

apples for him, as I should have done, I foolishly gave 
him the money. This he proceeded to invest in a 
bottle of Perry Davis' Painkiller. The next day his 
squaw came and told the agent that one of the white 
men had given her Indian some poison water that had 
almost killed him. She was referring to the pain- 
killer, which he had drunk and which made him very 
sick. The following day Gray Eyes again appeared 
and told me what an immense amount of good the red 
apples had done his papoose. He wanted fifty cents 
more, so that he could get a larger supply and com- 
pletely cure the little one. This I refused, and it re- 
sulted in my being called all manner of names and 
losing the friendship of Gray Eyes, verifying what 
Tibbetts had told me. 

There were two trading stores on the Agency. One 
was kept by Mr. Deere and the other by Yates & 
Reshaw. Both stores carried a full supply of Jamaica 
ginger. Perry Davis' Painkiller and cheap bay rum, and 
the Indians bought large quantities of each. It was 
their custom to adulterate this and drink it in place of 
whiskey. They would take the bay rum, pour it into a 
cup of water and, after skimming the oil for the sur- 
face, they would dring it. This often resulted in their 
getting beastly drunk and finally the agent was forced 
to prohibit the sale of the stuff at the stores. Bad 
white men would bring whiskey, of the vilest kind, on 
the Agency and trade it to the Indians for Buffalo 
robes, blankets and horses. While under the influence 
of this vile stuff, they became very quarrelsome and 
dangerous to us white men employed there. 

Chief Red Cloud had a favorite son about eighteen 
years of age, whom he expected in time to succeed him. 
Indians show a great affection for their sons, much 
more so than for their daughters. No matter how bad 
the boys became, they were never punished, but were 
more appreciated. Red Cloud was completely wrapped 



Page 119 HARDKNOCKS 

up in his son and had predicted a great future for him. 
The son became severely ill, which had a very depress- 
ing effect on Red Cloud. One day Tom Monahan and 
I were at work on the stable roof, when suddenly we 
heard a great deal of shooting. Looking down at Red 
Cloud's camp, which was close by, we saw the Indians 
in a state of great excitement, firing off their guns and 
six-shooters. I remarked to Tom that Red Cloud's boy 
must be dead or dying, and that we had better lose 
no time in getting into safer quarters. 

The shooting referred to was the last act of the 
Indians before the death of one of their number, as it 
was supposed to drive away the evil spirits. Quickly 
sliding off the roof, Tom and I started through a hole 
in the stockade fence to go across to our quarters. The 
Agency quarters not being finished, we were compelled 
to eat and sleep in two houses made of slabs about 
fifty yards from the stockade. As we emerged we 
suddenly met Red Cloud, who was naked, with the ex- 
ception of his breechclout and moccasins. With a knife 
he had slashed his breast, arms and thighs, causing 
blood to run freely down his body. He certainly pre- 
sented a ghastly appearance. This slashing was an in- 
dication of great grief and Red Cloud, with his head 
bowed down, gun in hand and crying bitterly, was 
indeed a pitiful object. 

Indians hearts, as they termed them, became bad 
through the losing of a very dear friend or relative. 
When in that condition, they had the idea that they 
must kill a white man to atone for their loss and make 
their hearts "good again." Monahan and I lost no 
time getting back through that opening and fortunately 
were not seen by Red Cloud. He entered the gate of the 
stockade and was met by Joe Bisnett, a half-breed, who 
was the chief interpreter. Joe talked with him for 
some time, telling him how sorry everyone was for 
him, and added that as a great chief he should set a 



HARD KNOCKS Page 120 

good example for his tribe, and not attempt the injury 
of a white man; that they were all his friends, sent 
there by the great father at Washington for their good 
and comfort. Joe finally brought his talk to a close by 
suggesting to him that he accept a blanket as a peace 
offering, but Red Cloud slowly shook his head and re- 
fused. As a last resort, Joe left him and, going to 
the commissary, shortly returned with a bright red 
blanket, urging Red Cloud to accept it. This had the 
desired effect, and he finally nodded his head, indicating 
that Joe had carried his point. Then the agent came 
and sympathized with Red Cloud and told him what 
good judgment he had used and how it would please 
the great father at Washington. Red Cloud then re- 
turned to his lodge, where the body lay. Immediately, 
the old squaws commenced their death cry, walking 
around by the hundreds in a large circle, and giving 
vent to their feelings. It was solemn and mournful in 
the extreme, and no description could do it full justice. 

The following day the agent sent word to Red Cloud 
by Joe that he would like to talk with him at the office. 
Red Cloud went and was requested to bury his son in 
a box, something hitherto unknown among the Sioux. 
It was urged that this new mode of burial would have 
a very good effect on his tribe, and that it was in ac- 
cordance with the custom of the white man. At first 
Red Cloud refused. It seemed hard for him to give 
up the old custom of wrapping the dead in skins and 
burying them by lashing them to poles, which were laid 
across the high limbs of trees. Finally, it being argued 
that the new mode was another step of the Indians 
toward civilization. Red Cloud consented. That night 
the carpenter made the box and the scaffold, which we 
hauled out the following morning to a high point about 
a mile from the Agency. The agent then notified Red 
Cloud all was ready. 

The funeral started, consisting of all the Indians, 
male and female, children and dogs, and was a sight 







l-^^'itaCZ:: 



Sf^ 



/jSnASl'^t ( r r~""'i'iiiVaiii 



- ■ ^- 



■■■^ 



The hanging of three desperate characters at Laramie City, Wyoming, Oct. 

28, 1868. From left to right. Big Steve, Con Moycr, Ace Moyer. 

(From an old Daguerrotype) 



Page 121 HARDKNOCKS 

never to be forgotten. The body was wrapped tightly 
(in blankets and hauled on a litter to its last resting 
place. Four other white men and myself put the body 
in the box, the Indians placing therein a gun, a liberal 
supply of ammunition, six pairs of moccasins, a spear, 
bow and arrows andtwo extra breechclouts, some eagles 
claws and beads. These, in the Sioux belief, were for 
his use in the happy hunting ground. Twenty head of 
ponies were then driven up and the shooting of them 
began. These were also for the use of the departed. 
The increased excitment caused by the shooting, bullets 
and arrows flew in all directions, made us very uneasy. 
Screwing the lid down tightly and raising the box on 
the scaffold, Monahan remarked, "Drive for the Agency 
as fast as you can." So I whipped up the mules and 
made faster time than had ever been made before, the 
occupants of the wagon, bouncing around like rubber 
balls. 

Driving into the stockade, we closed the gates and 
for two hours listened in terror to the Sioux shooting 
and crying as though bedlam had let loose. The agent 
was very much alarmed and we all thought our last 
day had come. Gradually the uproar subsided and 
normal conditions prevailed once more. Some idea of 
the size of the funeral procession may be formed from 
the fact that there were fully five thousand in attend- 
ance. That evening about dark, we again heard the 
mournful cry of the squaws. Looking out, we saw 
large numbers of them walking in single file. They had 
provisions with them, carried in large receptacles, 
which they were taking to deposit at the foot of the 
scaffold. This performance was kept up for ten days. 
Each morning the provisions were gone, having been 
eaten by wolves. These provisions were supposed to 
last the dead 'till he should reach the rendezvous of the 
buffalo, after which they would not be needed. 

The morning after the funeral, Red Cloud began the 
old Indian custom of distributing gifts among his tribe. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 122 

This was a strong trait of the Indian character. The 
greater the man and the greater his grief, the more 
was expected of him. These gifts consisted of horses, 
blankets, lodges and articles of every conceivable 
nature, owned by the chief; nothing being reserved. 
The object of the crying squaws will now be readily 
understood. They were to share with others the gen- 
erosity of their chief, and they considered their antics 
necessary to that end. I am inclined to think that these 
gifts were given only for effect and afterward returned, 
for in two weeks Red Cloud seemed to own approxi- 
mately as much as he had owned before. This is 
merely a supposition, but I think the facts will prove 
that I am very nearly correct. 

In due time Red Cloud's grief (as in the case of the 
white man) gradually wore off and he again resumed 
his usual activities. In a few months we began to give 
dances at the commissary, Thursray evenings being set 
apart for this purpose. In order to get the half-breed 
girls to participate (the full blood girls refused to 
attend), it was necessary to treat them to a dinner 
after the dance. The agent prevailed on Red Cloud to 
attend these dances, which he did, and he took to them 
as a duck does to water, and enjoyed himself im- 
mensely. Ben Tibbetts and I took it upon ourselves to 
teach him square dances, and he proved a very apt 
pupil. At first naturally awkward, but he gradually 
threw off all restraint and entered into the sport heart- 
whole and enjoyed it as much as the balance of us. The 
keen enjoyment of those evenings is never to be for- 
gotten. Finally the half-breed boys began coming and 
raised such havoc with the dinners, for they had ab- 
normal appetites, that we were forced to discontinue 
by orders from the agent. 

Back in the year 1866, Red Cloud had been a prom- 
inent leader in the Fort Phil Kearney massacre. Some 
years after that occurence, he came into Fort Laramie, 



Page 123 HARDKNOCKS 

called on General Smith, who was in command there, 
and asked him for a basin of water. Much surprised. 
Smith asked him what he wanted it for. His reply was 
"To wash the white man's blood from my hands, for I 
have been up to my arm pits in it." He had reference 
to the massacre. Smith granted his request, and after 
washing his hands and arms. Red Cloud promised he 
would never harm a white man. From that time until 
his death, he always kept his word, but although he 
instructed his tribe to do likewise, they were hard to 
control and occasionally trouble resulted. 

While visiting Laramie City, on the line of the 
Union Pacific Railway, in 1912, I met there my old 
friend, N. K. Boswell. He informed me that the town 
of Laramie City was located in 1868, and was the 
next terminus after Cheyenne. The founders of this 
town were Ace and Con Moyer. They appointed them- 
selves to the following offices: Ace, justice of the 
peace, and Con, marshal. They then appointed a man 
named Big Ned as assistant to Con. Ace then opened 
a saloon with a large room in the rear which was used 
as the justice office. A great many murders were 
committed in this room. The saloon was the rendes- 
vous for railroad laborers. When they were paid 
their wages they would play against Ace's saloon. 
If at night they had any money left, they were taken 
into this room and knocked on the head with an iron 
bar, and later put in a wagon by Big Steve, hauled 
two miles from the town, and dumped in a deep, dry 
gulch, where the wolves would devour them. So many 
disappeared that the saloon was called the "Bucket of 
Blood." Finally the citizens became aroused and under 
the lead of N. K. Boswell, organized themselves into 
a vigilance committee. One night Ace, Con and Big 
Steven were rounded up and taken to a partly com- 
pleted log house, and hanged there by adjusting the 
rope around their necks, standing them on boxes, and 



HARD KNOCKS Page 124 

pushing them of into eternity. Thus ended the ca- 
reers of three bad men. Big Steve requested that his 
shoes be removed before hanging, as his mother had 
always said he would die with his shoes on, and he 
wanted to fool her. The request was granted. Note 
in the illustration his shoes on the ground. This pic- 
ture is from an old daguerrotype loaned me by Mr. 
Boswell, who is still living in Laramie, hale and hearty 
at the age of 87. 

To give the reader some idea of the duties and 
determination of this man Boswell, as a deputy U. S. 
marshal, I will relate one circumstance told me by an 
old-time banker of Laramie City. A very bad char- 
acter in that country had committed an offense 
against the U. S. government and the chief marshal, 
Jeff Carr, sent for Boswell and instructed him to fol- 
low and arrest this man, if he had to kill him. If 
killed, to bring in some evidence of his death. Bos- 
well took the fellow's trail, both being mounted and 
armed. They were known to be two of the best rifle 
shots in Wyoming. The criminal was heading for the 
notorious Jackson Hole in northwestern Wyoming. 
Boswell knew if he reached there that his chance for 
capturing the criminal was lost, as no one was ever 
arrested in that almost unknown, mountainous and 
wild country. Boswell was well mounted and gained 
on his quarry rapidly. On the fourth day he was six 
hours behind him at a ranch kept by a Canadian 
Frenchman, a friend of Boswell's. On questioning this 
man, he told Boswell that his man slept in his ranch 
that night, and had left two hours previous to Bos- 
well's arrival. Boswell changed horses and proceeded 
on his way. The Frenchman wanted to accompany 
him. Boswell informed him that having his family 
to care for, he had better remain at his ranch. After 
Boswell left, "Frenchy," knowing how desperate the 
criminal was, saddled his horse and cutting the corners 



Page 125 HARDKNOCKS 

across country, managed to get in advance of the 
hunted. Finally Boswell discovered his man. The 
man also saw Boswell. They both dismounted, getting 
behind rocks for shelter. It was now a battle of wits. 
Boswell resorted to the old trick of putting his hat 
on a stick and putting it in sight in hopes of drawing 
the other's fire. But the trick did not work. Pres- 
ently Boswell heard a gun shot, and was surprised 
that it came from the north. He was amazed to see 
a man in the distance, mounted, waving his hat to 
him to come on. After some time, he realized that it 
was his friend "Frenchy." Cautiously going to him, 
he was informed that he had shot the criminal through 
the head. Both going over to the spot, found it to be a 
fact. It being too far to take the body to Cheyenne, 
Boswell decapitated it and took the head to Cheyenne 
as evidence. Those were trying days in the West., 
and required men of nerve and steel. Boswell was of 
that caliber. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 126 



CHAPTER XIV. 

MORE BAD INDIANS— THE BAD INDIAN BOY— BEEF 
CATTLE ISSUES— POWDER AND LEAD VERSUS GEW- 
GAWS — INDIAN COWARDICE — OLD THUNDER'S 
TOSS-UP— SIOUX ENUMERATION— THE PUPPY DOG 
FEAST AND WHAT IT ACCOMPLISHED. 

IT would take a long time to enumerate all of the 
bad Indians and boys. An Indian named "Bad 
Hand" — the name given on account of a defective 
hand, had a son about ten years old. One day near 
noon-time, as we were going to dinner in the slab- 
house heretofore referred to, the stockade not yet 
being finished, this boy slipped up behind an old man 
named Evans, a carpenter, and with an arrow from a 
small bow, shot him in the back, just below the 
shoulder blade, the arrow penetrating his back about 
six inches. I was a few steps behind the boy when he 
shot. Evans fell, badly hurt. The arrow shaft stick- 
ing from his back about eight inches. After the 
shooting this boy ran away laughing and the Indians, 
young and old, made great fun of it. I want to 
mentioned here that the Sioux Indians encourage their 
boys in everything that was bad, and taught them 
from infancy to hate the white man. I have seen 
little children unable to walk grin at a white man in 
a hideous way, showing their intense hatred while yet 
unable to talk. 

We carried Evans into the bunk house and in 
trying to pull the arrow out, pulled the shaft out of 
the point, which was made of hoop iron. We had no 
doctor there at the time, and it was a question how to 
extract this point. Monahan, using his knife, cut into 
the flesh, then taking a pair of nippers, he extracted 
the point, old Evans howling for mercy. The Indians 
remarked that he was not brave. We fixed the old 



Page 127 HARDKNOCKS 

man up the best we could and shipped him down to 
Fort Laramie, where he died from the wound. Bad 
Hand praised his boy for the deed and called him a 
great brave and thus the matter ended. 

After being on the Agency for some time, I was 
given charge of the cattle herd. At this particular 
time we issued to the Sioux one thousand head of 
cattle per month, five hundred on the first and five 
hundred on the fifteenth. Leaving the agency on the 
twenty-fifth, my duty was to ride forty-five miles to 
the beef contractor's range. With me there was one 
white man and twenty Indians. On arriving at the 
range, I gave to Mr. Bozler, who had the cattle con- 
tract, an order issued by the agent for one thousand 
head. On receiving the cattle, I receipted for them 
and drove them toward the agency about twenty 
miles. Early the following morning, we would com- 
plete the drive to the agency. The object of having 
those Indians with me was to protect the cattle from 
northern Indians who did not belong on the agency. 
Without this protection they would rush into the 
herd, selecting cows which were with calf, as an un- 
born calf, either cow or buffalo, was a great delicacy 
with the Sioux. 

On arriving at the agency, we would rest the cattle 
up until the first and then make the issue. We drove 
them into a large corral, two mounted men accompany- 
ing them. As an exit, we built a gate large enough 
for a steer to go through. Over the top of this gate 
was a wide plank on which I stood with a long pole 
with a spike in the end of it. On the prairie outside 
of this corral were approximately five thousand In- 
dians, squaws, children and dogs. Joe Bessnet, with 
the commissary clerk and the principal Indians of the 
various tribes, stood on a platform near the gate. The 
interpreter would call out, "Young, let out twenty 
head for Red Cloud's band." I would open the gate 



HARD KNOCKS Page 128 

and the mounted men would force the cattle out. I 
would count them and when the required number was 
out, would punch the others back j\nd close the gate. 

Indians belonging to Red Cloud's band would then 
attack the cattle, using guns, bow and arrows, and 
also spears, until they killed them all. This was 
repeated until the issue was complete, and I assure 
you that this was a gala sight and a great deal of fun 
was witnessed. Many of the cattle were wounded, and 
the Indians, children and squaws being dressed in 
gaudy colors, the wounded steers would attack them. 
Then there was a scampering to get under cover, some 
crawling up on the corral, others running in all 
directions, children crying and Indians laughing. Then 
came the squaws part. As soon as the cattle were 
pronounced dead, the squaws, children and dogs 
gathered around the carcass, first skinning it, then 
cutting out the tongue. The buck who had killed the 
animal, sat there on horse back waiting for the tail 
of the hide to he handed him, with which he started 
on a dead run for the trading store. There he ex- 
changed it for powder and lead and a few beads for the 
squaws. 

In the meantime, the squaws were removing the 
entrails. The older ones putting one of the small 
intestines in their mouths and chewing while the 
process was going on, the dogs coming in for their 
share as well. They would allow nothing to go to 
waste; and even now I can picture them as they 
appeared at that particular time. All were as busy 
as bees, chewing away, the offal continually running 
from the corners of their mouths. It was sickening 
sight. They then cut the flesh in long strips, loading 
it crosswise on their pony's backs with all they could 
carry. They would then start for their permanent 
camps. On arrival there they would hang this flesh 
on poles with crotch sticks for uprights. This was for 




^9f^ 



X^ ■# 








4 



Page 129 HARDKNOCKS 

the purpose of sun-drying it. A portion of this was 
handled in the following manner for future use. They 
took the flesh and with large knives chopped it up 
very fine, mixing with it either plums, cherries 
or berries, whichever was in season, using the entire 
fruit, which they pounded together, giving it the 
appearance of pulp. Then they took a green bladder 
and filled it with this material, tying it tightly with 
a thong. 

When an Indian had a long journey to make, he 
took with him one or two of those bladders, and it 
is wonderful how long they could subsist on this 
material. 

Again referring to issue day, I wish to cite a com- 
ical occurrence. Before issuing the cattle early in 
the morning, Ben Tibbetts would come down to the 
corral with his Winchester gun, and all the discarded 
old bucks and squaws trailing behind him, as these 
were the people he had to care for. Entering the 
corral, Ben would shoot down twenty head of cattle 
and with a mule would drag them out on the 
prairie. The squaws and old men would skin them, 
remove the entrails, which became their property. He 
then would have the beef hauled to the Agency, part 
of it being kept for the use of the white men and the 
balance issued daily to the old men and squaws. 
Among these old men was an Indian named Thunder, 
bent over with age, until his hands were not over a 
foot from the ground, and when he moved he looked 
as though he might be walking on four legs. This 
old fellow was a hideous sight. 

It was a custom when Ben would shoot a steer that 
the first old Indian or squaw to get to the animal, 
was entitled to the tongue. They would watch Ben 
closely and when he shot and the steer fell, they would 
all rush and many, many fights they had among one 
another making claim for this tongue. Ben, in his 



HARD KNOCKS Page 130 

commanding way, would decide who was entitled to 
the tongue, and that settled it. 

Ben in one instance shot a steer and the ball must 
have hit him a glancing blow. He fell all right, and 
old Thunder being close by, got there first, and with 
three others was about to turn the head over to 
extract the tongue, when up jumped Mr. Steer. 
Thunder, being less active than the others, started for 
the side of the corral. The steer seeing him, rushed 
at him, throwing him with his horns up against the 
fence, knocking old Thunder out. After this occur- 
rence they were very careful to know that a steer was 
truly dead before they went near him. 

At these issues the very young children came in 
for their fun ; while we were issuing the cattle, they 
would shoot arrows from their small bows into them. 
The steer hit, would, of course, bellow, which would 
create a great deal of laughter. They would continue 
to do this as we had no power to stop them, until 
toward the end those having been hit would attack 
the men and horses. Then, as it was impossible for 
those men mounted to stay in there, the interpreter 
would tell me to let them all go. He would then 
harangue the Indians, telhng them that we were going 
to do so, and that they belonged to those who could 
kill them. They would arrange themselves on the 
outside of the gate and the moment I opened it, it 
would seem as if Bedlam had turned loose. I would 
not attempt to describe the excitement of this scene. 
This ended issue day at Red Cloud Agency. 

In addition to this cattle issue, we had a commis- 
sary issue once a month. On this day we issued flour, 
bacon, beans, coffee, sugar, molasses and com. This 
was another gala day, Indians coming from all direc- 
tions to participate in it. At this particular time, the 
Sioux would not eat bread, or rather, would not make 
it. They did not seem to understand what flour was 



Page 131 HARDKNOCKS 

for. They would accept the flour, the old squaws 
carrying it out on the prairie, dump it in a pile, shake 
the sack well and retain it. They were particularly 
fond of flour sacks. 

I wish to state here that the squaws did all the 
laborious work. The greatest disgrace that could 
befall an Indian was to do any kind of manual labor. 
The squaws did it all. Referring again to the bread 
and seeing them continually dumping this flour, 1 
remarked to Dr. Seville, the agent, that I thought I 
could teach them to use this flour for making bread. 
He replied, "I will let you try it on next issue day." 
I did so in the following manner : I had our cook bake 
up in Dutch ovens in the presence of a great many 
squaws, about six pones of bread. The squaws looked 
on with a great deal of curiosity at this operation. 
I then got a small keg of molasses, knocking the head 
in, I then broke off a large piece of bread, and dipping 
it down into the molasses, I ate it. A hideous looking 
old squaw stepped from the crowd and very cautiously 
approached me. I dipped another piece, offered it to 
her. She refused. I then took another bite of it, 
smacking my lips; then dipping it again, I offered it 
to her, and to my surprise she snatched it from my 
hands and ate it ravenously. They all then rushed 
for the bread and molasses, eating it all up, and from 
that time on I never knew any flour to go to waste. 

Dr. Seville received an order from the Interior 
Department to get in some manner or other a count 
on the number of Indians on the agency. I v/ish the 
reader to bear in mind that this agency was two 
hundred miles from civilization and that there were 
but twenty-one of us white men employed there, and 
if a Sioux objected to anything, that ended it as far 
as we were concerned. 

The agent was in a great quandry how to approach 
them to get this count, for at this particular time 



HARD KNOCKS Page 132 

he well knew that they were drawing more rations 
than they were entitled to, and also knew that the 
Interior Department wanted this count so as to ar- 
range for their future rations. The agent finally 
concluded to give them a great Ceast to make "their 
hearts good," or as we would express it, to put them in 
good humor. He notified us boys to get evergreens 
and decorate the immense commissary and not to tell 
the Indians why we were doing so, as he wanted to 
surprise them. After the decorations were complete, 
he then notified the prominent chiefs that the great 
father in Washington had ordered him to give them 
a great feast. 

One of the Indian delicacies was young pups. The 
agent had the old squaws for about a week gathering 
up all the pups they could, bringing them into the 
agency. Ben Tibbetts took charge of the preparation 
for this feast. On the day appointed he had the old 
squaws build numerous fires, and using large camp 
kettles, stew these pups, making many, many gallons 
of it. When all was ready, the white men carried 
it in tin receptacles holding about a quart, and we 
acted as waiters, the old squaws dishing it out and we 
white men serving it. I don't know any time that I 
was as completely worn out as I was after that feast. 

After they had eaten all they cared to, the agent, 
through the chief interpreter, addressed them, in- 
forming them that the great father in Washington 
wanted to know how many children he had to take 
care of the next year, and asked them if they would 
allow him to count them. To simplify the matter, he 
figured on averaging them five to a lodge. This would 
hasten the work as we would then only have to count 
their lodges. When Bissnet interpreted this to them, 
there was a great commotion. However, Red Cloud 
and other powerful chiefs, who were seated on the 
floor in front, quieted them. 



Page 133 HARDKNOCKS 

When order had been restored, Red Cloud rose 
gradually from a sitting position and when erect he 
put out his right hand with the palm toward the 
North. I don't beheve a finer physique than his ever 
stood on two feet. He was over six feet tall, perfectly 
built and was Nature's own child. He then replied 
to the agent in a long speech, giving a history of the 
Sioux from his childhood up to that time, stating how 
they had fought their way from the far North; how 
they came in to be civilized like the white man ; how 
they had conquered and driven other tribes before 
them; how bad white men enticed his people to buy 
liquor; how they debauched their children, stole their 
lands and horses, and now cooped them up in a little 
corner of their vast domain ; and now the great father 
wanted to know how many there were of them left. 
He then said, "Yes, we will let you count our lodges." 
This pleased the agent so that he clapped his hands, 
jumping around like a child with glee. Red Cloud 
watched him, not saying a word until the agent 
quieted down, then he continued, "but in return for 
this, we want the great father to issue to each grown 
Indian a Winchester gun and forty rounds of ammu- 
nition. The change on the agent's face was indescrib- 
able, for at that time the Government were thinking 
seriously of disarming them, and they knew it. The 
poor agent had nothing more to say. The Indians 
arose, walking in single file out of the commissary, 
and the agent with his interpreter retired to his 
quarters. This was a case of love's labor lost, for 
the lodges were never counted. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 134 



CHAPTER XV. 

THE SIOUX LANGUAGE— RISE OF THE TOBACCO HABIT 
—THE YOUNG SQUAW AND HER DOMESTIC HABITS 
—COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE— SIOUX THEORY OF 
ORIGIN OF INDIANS— A SIOUX HALF-BREED'S ES- 
CAPE FROM CHEYENNE JAIL. 

MUCH has been said and written about the 
Sioux language. It is quite difficult for an 
interpreter to translate English into Sioux 
or Sioux into Enghsh, as the Sioux 
language has few words compared with 
English, and interpreting either one to the other is by 
no means easy. In fact, the interpreter adds or re- 
tracts, to suit the occasion. For instance, if he does 
not exactly understand just what the Sioux wishes 
understood, he in his judgment tells what he thinks 
would be satisfactory to both parties concerned, and 
in doing this it creates many misunderstandings in 
their future dealings. Another trait of the Sioux, if 
he see anything new to him, by some action of this 
object he gives it a Sioux name. As an illustration, 
the first sawmill that they saw in operation they called 
it a slush lush la tepee. The slush lush part of this 
name was the noise made by the exhaust pipe where 
the steam escaped, making the sound slush lush. Tepee 
in Sioux means a house, tent or lodge, or anything one 
might live in. 

I have known commissioners being sent out to the 
Agency by the Government to make new treaties with 
the Sioux, and the interpretation through the interpre- 
ter was very misleading when they attempted to put 
them into practical operation. This was caused as 
stated above by the interpreter misquoting what the 
Indian and commissioners intended, thus causing a 
great deal of trouble. 



Page 135 HARDKNOCKS 

When I first went on the Agency, the Indian was 
not a tobacco smoker. They smoked in their Indian 
pipes what was called Kinna Kinick. This was made 
from a red willow. With their knives they would 
scrape off the red part very carefully, then scrape the 
main part, which they dried in the sun. This caused it 
to curl up similar to shavings. After it was thoroughly 
dried, they chopped it up very fine and put it into a 
little beaded bag made of buckskin. Their pipes in 
which they smoked this material were of a soft clay 
that they dug from bluffs. It was of a red color. They 
dried this, which made it very hard. They then, with 
very crude tools, a knife being the principal one, shaped 
into a pipe of various designs, and on the bowls of these 
pipes they made figures, generally a deer or a bear. 
They then inserted in the bowl a long stem. How they 
bored the hole through this stem, I do not know. This 
stem was also carved; some of them were flat and 
others round. In smoking they would take two or 
three draws and pass it to the Indian sitting to their 
left, and keep doing so until the pipe was empty. 

In due time they began the use of tobacco. They 
first had the white man roll it in paper, making a cigar- 
ette, and they finally became very expert in making 
them themselves. However, the older Indians stuck 
to their pipes, but the younger ones became inveterate 
cigarette smokers, and I never recollect at any time 
seeing them smoking a pipe containing tobacco. 

Many of the young squaws before marriage were 
very pretty and coquettish, painted and dressed up in 
gaudy colors ; many of them wearing fine beaded work 
and other ornaments too numerous to mention. Thus 
attired they made it a practice to come around the 
Agency in large numbers in the afternoons, meeting 
the young bucks and exchanging signs of admiration. 
They had a peculiar mode of courtship. The young 
buck who wished to marry had the courting done for 
him in the following manner: 



HARD KNOCKS Page 136 

His most intimate friend would run after and catch 
a young squaw, throwing a blanket over her, which 
covered them both. This was called blanketing. While 
holding her in close embrace, he would tell her of all 
the good traits of his friend; how rich he was in 
horses, buffalo robes, etc.; how daring and brave he 
was, and what a fine brave he would make for her. 
During this blanketing act the prospective groom 
would stand at a respective distance, arms folded, 
silent and erect as a statute. (I wonder how many- 
white men would have cared to go through court- 
ship in this manner. I think they would have drawn 
the line at the part the friend was to play). If she 
consented to have his friend, he released her and she 
ran like a deer to her lodge and father. The brave 
then erected a lodge, fitting it out with the necessary 
cooking utensils, and immediately began negotiations 
with her father. He would lead a pony up to her 
lodge and himself stand there for a limited time. If 
her father did not appear, he would bring another 
pony and continue bringing ponies and robes until her 
father appeared, leading her by the hand. This was a 
sign that full value had been tendered for the girl. 

This simple ceremony of marriage was all that was 
required among the Indians. The groom and bride 
would then start for his lodge in single file, the squaw 
in front. She was now his beast of burden for hfe. 
The Indians were polygamous, many of them having 
as many as six wives. Oft times these wives were 
jealous of each other, and it was not unusual for them 
to settle their differences by engaging in desperate 
fights, in which knives were freely used. On these 
occasions the brave would take no part, simply looking 
on with the greatest unconcern. 

I have often wondered why scientists have never 
investigated the origin of the Sioux. I have my own 



Page 137 HARDKNOCKS 

ideas, which have been growing stronger since I came 
to the Pacific Coast, and am quite sure that the Sioux 
originally came from the Orient, and were of Asiatic 
origin. Their characteristics were very similar to 
those of the Chinese in many respects. Indians, on 
being questioned, have proved to have poor memories, 
their childhood being the hmit of their remembrance 
The oldest of them have invariably conveyed the 
meaning by signs that they came from the north, and 
I shall always think they originally came from China, 
which might easily be conceded to, as the Behring Sea 
of North America and Siberia joining China, they 
could easily have landed in North America in canoes, 
then becoming meat and fish eaters, they would 
naturally grow more stalwart than the Chinaman. 
Their features were much the same as also their 
pigeon English. Their funeral ceremonies were ident- 
ical in form, food in large quantities being taken to 
the graves for the dead and crying being one of their 
common customs, the only exception being that the 
Indian deposited his dead in trees. 

In the spring of 1872, a young halfbreed Sioux, 
named Tuscon Kessler, while under the influence of bad 
whiskey, rode up to a cabin situated on the Laramie 
River above Fort Laramie, and calling to the door an 
old, harmless Mexican, who followed the occupation of 
a wood chopper, shot and killed him. Later on he was 
captured and taken to Cheyenne, where he was tried, 
convicted and sentenced to be hung. About six 
o'clock in the evening previous to the execution, he 
made his escape. This was a very mysterious occur- 
rence, no one seeming to know how he escaped and it 
is surmised that the death-watch, in connection with 
some other official, had been paid a sum of money to 
help this fellow escape. 

When Kessler left the jail, he was shackled at the 
feet, the chain being about six inches long. He was 



HARD KNOCKS Page 138 

also handcuffed. In the rear of this jail was a stable, 
where the sheriff kept his coal black saddle horse, 
considered the best in Wyoming. How he succeeded in 
bridling this horse and getting on his bare back, no one 
ever knew. If he did, he never told. Lying on his 
stomach, his feet being over the loins of the horse, his 
hands would naturally be over his weathers, and in this 
way he could hold the bridle rein and guide the horse. 
At about six thirty o'clock in the morning, he arrived 
at the Platte River, which was ninety miles distant 
from Cheyenne. Swimming the horse across the river, 
he arrived at Nick Jennesse's ranch. Nick released his 
feet and hands by breaking the shackles, and furnished 
him a fresh horse on which he continued on north and 
joined the Sioux Indians. This Jennessee was what 
was termed a squaw man and was living there with a 
Sioux squaw. As stated previously, any Sioux or Sioux 
half-breed committing any depredation south of the 
Platte River, was free if he could get to the north side 
before being captured, as the sheriff or soldiers could 
not follow him under existing conditions at that time. 
In 1874, while I was employed on Red Cloud Agency, 
I saw and talked with this fellow a great many times. 
He was dressed in Indian attire completely; his face 
painted in many colors, and was wearing the breech- 
clout, blanket and moccasins. The authorities offered 
a standing reward of one thousand dollars for his 
capture, dead or alive. 

In 1878, a young lieutenant stationed at Camp 
Robinson, came over to Red Cloud Agency in an am- 
bulance, accompanied by four soldiers. Kessler, with 
some other Indians was sitting on the bank of the 
White River, when the ambulance stopped, and an old 
Indian stepped up to the officer and in his pigeon 
English told him that one of the Indians was Kessler, 
at the same time pointing a finger at the latter. 
Kessler, always on the alert, witnessed the action and 



Page 139 HARDKNOCKS 

immediately started to run, the officer shot at him, 
striking him in the left hip and disabling him. Before 
the Indians standing around could regain their senses, 
the officer called to the ambulance driver and throwing 
Kessler in the wagon, took him to Camp Robinson, 
and under a strong guard of soldiers that night, 
started with him for Cheyenne, arriving there in 
safety and turning him over to Jeff Carr, who was 
sheriff at the time, and in a few days receiving the 
reward, returned to Camp Robinson. This was a very 
nervy act, and it is miraculous that he got away with 
it. They then tried to get Kessler to confess as to 
how he made his escape, but he was true blue and 
would not do so. 

In a short time Kessler was hanged and while 
standing on the scaffold, the sheriff asked him if he 
had any request to make. He replied, 

"Yes. The white men in this country whom I 
hate, yourself included, have gloated over the fact 
that I would die with my boots on," and at the same 
time asked the sheriff to remove them, which he did. 
Kessler then said, "Let her go." They put on the 
black cap, after adjusting the noose, sprung the trap 
and thus ended the career of a very bad half-breed 
Sioux. 

After the Sioux war of 1876, much was talked and 
written about that famous scout, Frank Geruard, 
whom I knew well. Many have the idea that he was a 
Sioux Indian. This is a mistake, as I happen to know 
his history, as told to me by himself. 

In 1860, a lady named Mrs. Peal, the wife of an 
army officer, was in Honolulu for her health. There 
she made the acquaintance of the parents of this boy. 
She became fascinated with the little fellow and 
adopted him, bringing him with her to Fort Laramie. 
Two months after her arrival the child was playing 



HARD KNOCKS Page 140 

in the rear of her quarters, when a Sioux chief named 
Crazy Horse saw the child, and no one being in sight, 
he threw a blanket over the youngster and rode off 
with him to the north, to his camp. 

This Indian was a powerful chief and becoming 
attached to the child, kept him prisoner there until 
1876, when Geruard escaped and coming to Fort 
Laramie, offered his services to General Crook. Crook 
refused him, thinking him a Sioux Indian. Geruard 
then went to General Smith, who was in command at 
the post, and told him who he was. Smith immedi- 
ately called on General Crook, advising him to employ 
Geruard, adding that he (Geruard) was very bitter 
toward the Sioux, knew their habits and customs, and 
also knew very much of their country. Crook ac- 
cepted him. Later on Miles succeeded Crook and 
retained the services of Geruard and found him one of 
the most valuable men in that capacity, and to this 
man Geruard is due the credit of the final surrender 
of the Sioux. 

It is said that Geruard approached General Miles 
one day, saying to him : "If you will follow a plan that 
I give you, we can corral and kill, or force, these 
fellows to surrender in thirty days. Miles asked him 
how. Geruard replied, "Move your troops rapidly by 
railroad" — the Northern Pacific being constructed 
through Montana — "and then get light draft steamers 
on the upper Missouri River and I will show you where 
to station your troops." The Sioux were now re- 
treating north after the Custer massacre. He ex- 
plained to Miles that the Indians having their families 
with them would be compelled to travel through 
certain passes in the mountains and cross rivers at 
certain places, and that he knew them all. Miles 
turning around, remarked, "Trash!" But in thirty 
days he did just as Geruard had suggested; Miles 



Page 141 HARDKNOCKS 

taking the credit to himself, for what was accom- 
plished. 

When the advance Sioux arrived at these passes 
and river fords, they found soldiers there and returned 
to report the fact to their chiefs. The Indians then 
reahzed that they were corraled and the only thing 
left them to do was to delegate three of their prom- 
inent chiefs, under a flag of truce, to make the best 
terms possible with Miles. Thus terminated the 
Sioux War of 1876. 

The last I heard of Geruard, he was living in 
obscurity on the Laramie River, some twenty miles 
above Fort Laramie, old and penniless. And it is a 
shame that this great government does not provide a 
pension for such faithful servants. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 142 



CHAPTER XVI. 

MORE ABOUT THE INDIANS— SIOUX WARFARE— DE- 
SCRIPTION OF A SIOUX WAR DANCE— THE KOO 
STICK EXPLAINED— HOW SCALPING IS DONE— THE 
SIOUX SUN DANCE DESCRIBED— SUN WORSHIPPERS 
SELECTING THE VIRGINS— HORRIBLE TORTURE OF 
YOUNG BRAVES. 

I WILL describe one of the Sioux war dances, 
which was held in the Agency stockade some 
time after the murder of the old men and women 
of the Pawnee tribe previously referred to: 

The Sioux had many scalps and carried them 
tied to the chin straps of their ponies* bridles or 
arranged them on long spears. They were all painted 
in their war paint, all mounted, the most prominent 
Indians sitting in a very large circle, and on the out- 
side of this circle were the squaws, children and old 
men. One of these young bucks would ride his horse 
into the circle, suddenly stopping. This horse had 
many hand marks painted on his body, generally in 
white. Many of these marks in close proximity to 
the rider. This was to show what desperate en- 
counters he had had with the enemy; how close he 
was to him. These marks meaning the enemy's hand 
prints. He would then tell how he shot the enemy 
and how he scalped him, at the same time pointing 
to the scalp. The old Indians sitting in the circle 
would applaud them ; the old and young squaws doing 
likewise. 

After a number of these young bucks had gone 
through this ceremony, the old squaws would start 
their war cry. All the Indians present would rise to 
their feet, forming a great circle. A young buck 
would then place on end a spear with a scalp attached, 
the old squaws beating their tom toms, they would 



Page 143 HARDKNOCKS 

then begin their dance, going through all kinds of 
antics, which at times were very comical. They would 
continue this for hours, until they became exhausted. 
These fellows are great braggarts, for as a fact they 
had no trouble in killing these poor old Pawnees. 

For the benefit of the reader, I will explain one of 
their characteristics. Every young Sioux warrior 
when on murder bent, carries what is called a koo 
stick. It is about twelve inches long. This is used for 
the following purpose: 

If two young Sioux would both shoot and kill an 
enemy, the one getting to him first and touching him 
with this koo stick gets the credit of kilHng him and 
is entitled to his scalp. When telling of their ex- 
ploits, they term it counting their koos, meaning 
by that the number they have killed. 

All Indians wear what they term their scalp lock. 
This is made at the top of the head of a space about 
the size of a silver dollar. They gather the hair up 
and plait it, its length being about six inches. To 
this they usually attach a colored feather. In scalping 
the enemy, they seize the scalp lock and with the point 
of their scalping knife, cut the scalp in this space 
mentioned and with a sudden motion pull it from the 
head. Were this victim a white man, they would 
sometimes take his entire hair, then cutting it up 
into three or four pieces, claim that they had killed 
three or four white men, while as a fact they had 
killed but one. When they returned to their camp, 
the squaws dressed these scalps, using almost the 
same process that they would in tanning a buffalo 
hide. This preserves it. The young buck then attaches 
it to his person and when they have their war dances, 
exposes it as I have previously described. 

In my time on the Agency, the Sioux were sun 
worshippers and once a year, usually in the month 



HARD KNOCKS Page 144 

of May, they held their sun dance. The whole Sioux 
nation attended this as it was a religious ceremony 
with them. They were all decked out in their best bib 
and tucker and were a wonderful sight to look upon. 
Early in the morning before sunrise, they congre- 
gated on the west side of a long, high ridge, when 
suddenly one of their chiefs would harangue them. 
They would then he down on their stomachs close to 
the earth and as the sun appeared, they would gradu- 
ally rise with it, and when the sun had risen clear 
of the ride, they were all standing erect. I never 
could understand how they kept pace in rising with the 
sun, but they did nevertheless. They would then bow 
very low three times, holding their arms erect with 
their palms toward the sun. Suddenly there was a 
great commotion and a hideously dressed Indian, 
mounted and making motions at the assembled In- 
dians, ten or fifteen of them would suddenly step out 
in front and shoot with their guns at this fellow. He 
was their great medicine man and was bullet proof. 

Ben Tibbetts and I witnessed this act and after 
they had quit shooting, none of the shots having 
struck the object, Ben remarked, "I would like a 
crack at that fellow with my Winchester," and 1 
assure you they would have to make a new medicine 
man. It is a question whether they shot to kill or 
not. However, the medicine man was unharmed. In 
a few moments another one appeared. He passed 
through the same ordeal without being injured. Then 
four others appeared at intervals, all passing safely. 

The next part of the ceremony was the virgin pole 
scene. The Sioux kept a record each year of their 
virgins. To do so the old squaws erected a large pole, 
the young girls forming themselves in a line, each one 
putting on an apron made of deer skin. An old squaw 
then handed her a small hatchet. The young bucks 
in the meantime had formed themselves in line, ex- 




o . 



Page 145 HARDKNOCKS 

tending, I should judge, a quarter mile, leaving a 
space in the center large enough for the young girls 
to pass through. One of the chiefs then gave the 
order and the procession of young girls passed up the 
hne to the virgin pole, each one taking her apron 
with one hand by the corner, and if she was what she 
represented herself to be, she cut a chip from the 
virgin pole, which dropped into her apron. She then 
took a position, waiting until the entire number 
passed up the line. 

Returning through the line to the starting point, 
if the young squaw was not what she had repre- 
sented herself to be, a young buck, knowing so, would 
expose her. She was then taken by the old squaws 
L d severely whipped. On the other hand, if she were 
what she represented herself to be, the squaws made 
a great ado over her, giving her many presents. Just 
how they registered them, I do not know, but I do 
know it to be a fact that they kept a complete record 
of them. 

The next ceremony was the torture of young 
bucks who wanted to become braves. The squaws 
again erecting a pole, tying from it near the top long 
thongs similar to our May pole. The young men then 
walked out, each with a knife in his hand, some 
cutting themselves on the breast just through the 
skin and separating the skin from the flesh, then at- 
taching the thong. Others cut themselves in a like 
manner in the back, inserting a thong and tying to 
it a buffalo head or beef head. Then they began 
dancing in a circle, pulling against the pole until they 
tore the thong from the flesh. Others with the heads 
attached, danced around until the thong was torn out. 
The old men in the meantime both praised and crit- 
icised their bravery. They were then graded off as 
full-fledged warriors. Those going through the great- 



HARD KNOCKS Page 146 

est amount of torture were pronounced great braves, 
the others, merely braves. 

The next ceremony was the piercing of their 
children's ears. The squaws would sit down in large 
circles with a piece of hide on their knee, and with 
a sharp pointed knife in hand, would motion the 
children to them and laying their ear on the piece of 
hide, would pierce the child's ear at the top and 
bottom. And it is wonderful to state that not one of 
those children uttered so much as a whimper. 

After going through these ceremonies, the as- 
sembly scattered in all directions, some runing pony 
races, others gambling, others running foot races, 
Indian against Indian, or an Indian against a horse. 
The young bucks playing with the young squaws and 
ending up with a great jollification and a feast. 



Page 147 HARDKNOCKS 



CHAPTER XVII. 

MORE CHARACTERISTICS OF THE SIOUX— HOW THE IN- 
TERIOR DEPARTMENT LOST CONTROL OF THE 
SIOUX— UNWRITTEN HISTORY— MURDER OF FRANK 
APPLETON— ONE TEAR SHED BY RED CLOUD- 
ORIGIN OF CAMP ROBINSON— THE JENNY EXPEDI- 
TION OR "GOLD IN THE BLACK HILLS." 

I AM now drawing near the time when I left the 
Agency, and wish to mention two characteristics 
of the Sioux. Few readers of this book have any 
idea of the origin of the heliograph. Before my 
time among those people they carried on their 
persons a round piece of polished silver, and when 
they wanted to get into communication with others 
of their kind, they would ascend a high hill and with 
this piece of polished silver, would signal with dots 
and dashes the same as used by our present tele- 
graphic code, this being accomplished by the reflection 
of the sun. In time it would be answered by other 
Indians a long distance away. Later on and during 
my time among them, they substituted a piece of 
looking glass and one could not find a grown Sioux 
without this piece of glass on his person. In cloudy 
weather they substituted for this, grass smoke. They 
would build a fire on the hilltop, immediately smother 
it with grass, then holding a blanket or buffalo robe 
over it by the four corners until it was filled with 
smoke. If they wished to signal a dot, they would let 
out a small quantity of smoke. If a dash, they would 
let out a larger quantity. If they wished to signal 
by night, they would build a fire, covering it in the 
same manner and for a dot, they would quickly expose 
the fire and for a dash, a longer exposure. Their 
telegraphic code may not have been so complete as 
ours, but their system was certainly the same. I am 



HARD KNOCKS Page 148 

sure that the credit of the heliograph should be given 
to General Custer, as he had a large experience with 
the Indians and was conversant with their habits and 
would be the most likely one to have reported this 
signalling, when the War Department, by experiments, 
invented the heliograph. This was used largely by our 
signal corps on the plains and elsewhere prior to the 
discovery of wireless telegraphy. 

The Sioux, as previously mentioned, were great 
braggarts and dreamers. I will cite you an instance 
of this characteristic. In January, 1874, they had 
very deep snows in Wyoming and Nebraska. This 
made traffic difficult for freighting teams. At this 
time a man named Charles Clay had the contract for 
freighting the supplies to Red Cloud Agency from 
Cheyenne. His transportation was by ox teams. For 
about thirty days he was unabel to get through to the 
Agency with these supplies. Consequently we were 
cempletely out of everything. The Indians in the 
morning would ride out on a high hill, sitting there 
until almost dark, looking to the south in hopes of 
seeing these teams coming. They would come into the 
Agency at night and report to the agent that they 
saw heaps of teams coming. At first this was good 
news to us, but in a couple of days no teams arrived. 
They would then repeat the operation, bringing in the 
same news. They would keep this up for several days, 
and as a fact, the teams did not arrive for fifteen 
days. What I wish to impress the reader with is, 
that the Indian having this supply train in mind, and 
not wanting to report anything but good news, really 
imagined he saw the teams, and the oftener he went 
on this hilltop, the more he believed he saw them. 
Before they finafiy arrived, the Indians were com- 
pelled to kill their ponies and eat them. 

The reader has probably read or heard of the Sioux 
War of 1876. But few know the actual causes that 



Page 149 HARDKNOCKS 

led up to it. In the month of March, 1875, a young 
man arrived on the Agency named Frank Appleton. 
His father having preceded him to the Agency to 
teach the Sioux how to farm and was termed "Boss 
Farmer." Frank was the nephew of Dr. Seville. Upon 
his arrival there he was appointed chief clerk to the 
agent, Otis Johnson having retired. Before coming to 
the Agency and while in Cheyenne, he broke his leg 
and came to the Agency using crutches. We all liked 
him very much and talked with him a great deal about 
his eastern home. He was from Sioux City, Iowa. 
He told us in conversation that he did not want to 
come out there, but that his father and Seville in- 
sisted on his coming, and while in Cheyenne before 
breaking his leg he had a dream that something 
awful was going to happen, and while on the Agency 
he begged his father and uncle to allow him to return 
to his home, also telling them of his dream, and they 
laughed at him. Consequently, he remained. 

On April 1st Dr. Seville went down to Spotted Tail 
Agency, which was forty miles north of Red Cloud 
Agency. His business there was to confer with their 
agent in regard to an order from Washington to 
formulate some plans to disarm the Sioux. About 
three o'clock in the afternoon of this day an Indian 
arrived on the Agency. He was not one of our regular 
Indians, but belonged up north. He had just arrived 
from the Platte River and stated that a white man 
had killed his brother down there and that in re- 
taliation he was going to kill one of us white men 
before he went north. Joe Bessnet, the chief inter- 
preter, hearing this from the Indians, conversed with 
the fellow. He then warned us white men not to go on 
the outside of the stockade that evening for fear this 
fellow might carry out his threat. This stockade 
was built of lumber fourteen feet high, the lumber 
being three inches thick. The entrance had two 



HARD KNOCKS Page 150 

large gates that swung against a center post and 
when the gates were closed, they were hooked on the 
inside with hooks and staples. When darkness came, 
we closed the gates. During the day one of the 
carpenters carelessly left a ladder on the outside. This 
Indian, about two o'clock the following morning, 
ascended this ladder and dropped inside the stockade, 
and then unfastened the gates. Then going to Apple- 
ton's sleeping quarters, which was the nearest build- 
ing to the gates, knocked on the door. Appleton got 
up, putting on his slippers, cap and long ulster, stepped 
outside and asked the Indian what he wanted. The 
Indian replied something in the Sioux language. 
Appleton not understanding Sioux and knowing that 
Billy Hunter, the assistant interpreter, was sleeping 
in the quarters with myself, Mike Dunne and Paddy 
Simmons, turned his back to the Indian and made but 
a few steps toward these quarters when the Indian 
shot him, using a Winchester rifle, hitting him just 
under the left shoulder blade. 

The report of the gun awoke us boys. We hurriedly 
dressed and going out of the door, saw Appleton on 
his hands and knees trying to get up. When he heard 
us, he said, "Come quick, boys, I am shot." We 
hurried to him and carrying him into his bedroom, he 
told us that he knew he was going to die. A young 
doctor had arrived on the Agency the day before, and 
we woke him up, telling him that Appleton was 
severely wounded, but he was so frightened that we 
could not get him out of his room. Billy Hunter then 
ran down to Red Cloud's camp, which was but a short 
distance away, telling him what had happened. Red 
Cloud then set Indian runners to Man Afraid of His 
Horses and Chief Little Wound's camp. They all three 
came into the room where Frank lay. Red Cloud sitting 
down on the side of the bed near Frank's head, took 
him by the hand, patting it on the back, and with 



Page 151 HARDKNOCKS 

head bowed and with tears trickling down his cheeks, 
said: "It is too bad. You are a good man. Bad In- 
dian live up north." A few minutes later Appleton 
died. 

This was the first tear I ever knew an Indian to 
shed. Red Cloud having lost his son previous to this, 
the memory of which came back to him with great 
force and melted his Indian heart to tears. Mike 
Dunne immediately started on horseback for Spotted 
Tail Agency to inform Seville. When daylight came, 
Indians, young and old, crowded into the stockade in 
great numbers. Many of them were dressed in their 
war paint and under great excitement. About two 
o'clock in the afternoon Seville arrived from Spotted 
Tail Agency. The leading Indians then held a great 
council with him which ended by their telling him 
that they were afraid they could not control their 
young men as they were very greatly excited. 

I neglected to say that in the construction of this 
stockade, they built in the southeast comer a high 
cupola, where one could go and get an unobstructed 
view for miles. The excitement became so great that 
Joe Bassnet called Ben Tibbetts to one side, telling 
him in Sioux to take us men up in this cupola, and to 
remain there until he told us that it was safe to 
come out. Ben did so. We then took sacks of flour 
and other food, including water, into the cupola, and 
with the flour built a barricade. We had but one gun 
up there, that being a Winchester (the one used by 
Ben for shooting cattle) . There we remained for four 
days and nights. I could not describe the great 
excitement going on among the Indians. They came 
from all directions, the chiefs all sitting in council, 
trying to decide what was best to do. They held the 
agent as a hostage until the decision was made. The 
younger Indians wanted to burn the Agency, kill us 
white men, and go north. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 152 

American Horse, previously spoken of, made the 
Indians a final talk, telling them if they were brave 
and wanted to fight the white man that they could go 
down to Fort Laramie on the Platte River and find 
plenty of them, including the soldiers, but they must 
not harm us white men on the Agency ; that some of 
us were married to their people, and were building 
them an Agency and treating them kindly. This 
seemed to quiet them. A white man living outside 
of the stockade with a squaw as a wife — a squaw 
man, as we termed them — was very much excited 
and mounting his horse, rode to Fort Laramie in 
great haste. On arriving there, he told General Smith, 
who was in command, that the Indians had killed all 
us white men and had burned the Agency and had 
gone north on the war path. General Smith im- 
mediately telegraphed General Crook, who was in 
command of the Department of the Platte, with head- 
quarters at Omaha, Nebraska. General Crook in- 
formed the War Department at Washington of these 
conditions. The War Department immediately trans- 
ferred the Sioux Indians from the Interior Department 
to the War Department. Crook was then ordered to 
Fort Laramie, where he organized what was termed 
the Crook expedition. Three days after the death of 
Appleton the Indians furnished an escort for the 
body to Fort Laramie, the doctor accompanying the 
remains. From there they shipped the body to his 
home. This showing conclusively that his present- 
ment had come true. Without a question of doubt, 
the killing of this young man was the true cause of 
the Sioux War of 1876. 

After four days in this cupola, Bessnet informed 
us that we could go back to our work as all was 
safe. We all gave American Horse credit for saving 
our lives. The following day, myself and two others 
left the Agency for Fort Laramie. We knew that 



Page 153 HARDKNOCKS 

something was going to happen as Appleton, at the 
time he was killed, was really acting agent, and we 
knew the government would not stand for this kill- 
ing. When we arrived at Fort Laramie, all was ex- 
excitement there; soldiers being equipped, six-mule 
teams being assembled for transportation purposes, 
soldiers arriving from Fort D. A. Russell. We im- 
mediately made application for a teamster's job and 
had no trouble in securing one. 

To explain more fully regarding conditions existing 
between the Interior Department and the Military De- 
partment regarding the Sioux before the death of 
Frank Appleton on Red Cloud Agency, I will cite one 
instance. One bright day in 1873, the horses of K 
Company, 2nd Cavalry, were out on herd near the Post 
Fort Laramie, guarded by two cavalry soldiers, when 
five Sioux Indians rushed in between the Post and the 
horses and ran them off, taking the soldiers with the 
horses, getting across the Platte River before they 
could stop them. The soldiers they stripped of their 
clothing and sent them back to the Post naked. These 
horses the Government never did recover as they 
could not cross the Platte River after them, by virtue 
of the Sioux treaty. I saw many of these horses on 
the Agency when I worked there. This expedition 
verifies the fact that the kilhng of Appleton changed 
all treaty relations with the Sioux, and proves that this 
expedition was the first step in the Sioux war of 1876. 

In three days, with ten companies of soldiers, 
General Crook in command, part being cavalry, we 
started for the Agency. There were one hundred 
six-mule teams, and I assure you it was a beautiful 
sight to look this assembly over. The six-mule teams 
traveling four abreast across the prairie, cavalry as 
the advance guard and cavalry as the rear guard. The 
infantry marched in single file on the outside, also 



HARD KNOCKS Page 154 

riding in the wagons. In due time we arrived on the 
Agency and found nothing there except some old 
bucks and old squaws, the balance of the Indians 
having gone north, knowing that this expedition was 
coming to the Agency. The agent and the boys there, 
were of course, delighted to see us. We camped there 
for about ten days. Then they established, about 
three miles from the Agency, Fort Robinson — at that 
time called "Camp Robinson." This post derived its 
name from the fact that Lieutenant Robinson had 
been killed by the Indians near Fort Laramie three 
years prior to this. (As a coincident, I myself while 
a teamster at Fort Laramie, drove the ambulance 
that hauled Lieutenant Robinson's body into Fort 
Laramie, and I also drove the six-mule team that 
hauled the first load of commissaries to Camp Robin- 
son). After establishing this camp, we returned to 
Fort Laramie, leaving about one-half of the command 
at Camp Robinson. Upon our arrival there, orders 
were awaiting Crook to select, from our six-mule 
teams, mules suitable for packing purposes, and with 
his command to report to Fort Fetterman. This was 
the first move directly of the Sioux War of 1876. 
There was also at Fort Laramie orders to organize 
what was called the Black Hills or Jenny expedition. 
Colonel Dodge was in charge of the military depart- 
ment and Professor Jenny was the scientist. The 
latter had instructions under military escort to enter 
the Black Hills and have it prospected for gold, as 
there had been rumors that miners from the north 
had gotten in there and found gold plentiful. This 
was then called the Popsy Paw country and was 
owned by the Sioux under treaties with the govern- 
ment. If Professor Jenny could verify this fact, the 
government's intention was to buy it from the Sioux. 
This would allow white men to go in there undisturbed. 



Page 155 HARDKNOCKS 

I joined this expedition in the capacity of a team- 
ster. I drove what was termed "Headquarter Wagon." 
This wagon contained the equipment belonging to 
General Dodge, and was always in the lead and thus 
termed the "Lead Wagon." Among teamsters, this 
was quite an honor and also quite a convenience, as 
one arrived in camp earlier than the many teams 
strung out in the rear. 

The government was short of transportation and 
in addition to fifty government six-mule teams, they 
were compelled to hire forty teams owned by citizens, 
making in all ninety teams. 

Before leaving Fort Laramie, I met up at the 
Suttler store a man named Botsford. He was an old 
government employe and when I first went to Chey- 
enne, he was superintendent of transportation for the 
government at a station close by, named Camp Carlin. 
All supplies destined for northern posts passed 
through his station, same having been brought there 
by the Union Pacific railroad. The superintendent 
was considered a very high official, having a great 
responsibility upon his hands. Botsford was a highly 
educated man and when off duty hobnobbed a good 
deal with the officers at Fort D. A. Russell, a short 
distance away. He was also very sporty and par- 
ticularly fond of horse racing. At a horse race one 
day, he and Lieutenant Whiting had a serious mis- 
understand regarding some bet that was made. After 
the race Botsford went to Camp Carlin and later 
Lieutenant Whiting followed him there, when they 
got into a quarrel, Lieutenant Whiting drawing a six- 
shooter, shooting twice at Botsford, but missing him. 
Botsford being unarmed, ran to his quarters, the 
lieutenant following him. On a table lay Botsford's 
gun. He snatched it up, shooting the Lieutenant and 
killing him. This, of course, was a very serious 
matter — the killing of a United States officer. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 156 

About this time an ambulance drove up. Bots- 
ford jumped into it, ordering the driver to drive him 
to Cheyenne. He there gave himself up to the sheriff. 
Later, when the soldiers heard of the death of their 
lieutenant, they armed themselves and a great num- 
ber of them started for Cheyenne to avenge the 
lieutenant's death. The citizens of Cheyenne, knowing 
that there would be serious trouble over the matter, 
also armed themselves and barricaded the streets 
leading up to the jail where Botsford was confined. 
This stopped the advance of the soldiers. Finally, 
officers from Fort D. A. Russell rode into Cheyenne 
and ordered the soldiers back to their quarters. Bots- 
ford later on was tried and acquitted, but naturally 
was discharged from the government's employ. He 
then began to carouse and drink heavily, and in six 
months he was a perfect sot. In fact, so low that he 
became a saloon bum. 

In meeting at the sutler's store as previously 
stated, I said to him, "Why don't you brace up and 
come out with us on this expedition?" 

He replied, "No; I am too far gone, and if I got 
away from whiskey for two days, I would die." 

I then said to him, "Botsford, if you will agree to 
come along, I'll see Jim Duncan, the wagonmaster, 
and get you a position driving a six-mule team, and 
furthermore, I'll take whiskey enough along to brace 
you up. In doing this you can make a man of your- 
self again. You are too good a man to go on in the 
manner you are and here is your last chance." 

The poor fellow began to cry and between sobs 
told me that those were the first encouraging words 
he had had spoken to him in two years. I left him 
and went down to the corral to see Duncan. I asked 
Duncan to give Botsford a chance. He laughed at 
me, saying that Botsford would not live three days. 



Page 157 HARDKNOCKS 

I then told him my plan to brace Botsford up and 
also told him that three years prior to this, Botsford 
had done him many favors and that now was the 
time to reciprocate. However, Duncan replied, "Your 
heart is much larger than your head, and if you will 
attend to him, I'll give him a job." The next morning 
I had Botsford astride of the wheeler in a six-mule 
team. 

In a few days the expedition started, and about six 
times a day I would go back to Botsford and give him 
a good, stiff drink of whiskey. I did not let many days 
go by before reducing both quantity and quality, and 
in two weeks one would not have recognized the Bots- 
ford of former days. An army officer who chanced to 
see Botsford driving his team, reported the fact to 
Colonel Dodge, telling him of Botsford's previous 
trouble with Lieutenant Whiting. This, of course, 
caused a great deal of talk among the officers and 
soldiers. Professor Jenny finally hearing of it, came 
over one night to Duncan's tent and asked him who 
this Botsford was. I was standing close by and 
Duncan called me, telling Professor Jenny at the 
same time that I could tell him all about the Bots- 
ford affair. Jenny invited me over to his tent and 
I gave him Botsford's past history. When I got 
through, he said that he wanted a private secretary 
and asked me if I thought Botsford would accept the 
position. I replied, "Yes, I'll see that he does accept 
it." I then hunted Botsford up and explained matters 
to him. He threw up his hands and said "No, and 
for God's sake let me alone where I am." Talking 
with him further, I discovered his reason for not 
wanting to accept the position. He explained that if 
he accepted the position it would throw him into 
the society of the officers which might lead to trouble 
for him. I then took him over to Jenny, leaving him 
there. In about two hours he came over to my tent 



HARD KNOCKS Page 158 

and told me he had accepted the position. Botsford 
held this appointment for a long time and was very 
satisfactory to Professor Jenny. I will write more 
of this man later. 

Another man of prominence who accompanied this 
expedition was a Mr. McGillacuty. Mr. McGillacuty 
had a national reputation and had surveyed the 
boundary line between British Columbia and the 
United States. His duties were to take the topog- 
raphy of the country. 

Our guide on this expedition was California Joe, 
a very noted man in the west. This man was one of 
the greatest mountaineers the west ever produced, 
not excepting Freemont. I will also speak more of 
this great man later on. 

In due time we arrived at the outskirts of the 
Black Hills, and made our first permanent camp on 
French Creek. The town of Custer City is now located 
there, named in honor of General Custer. 



Page 159 HARDKNOCKS 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

GOOD AND BAD ARMY OFFICIALS OF THIS EXPEDITION 
— A TRIBUTE TO CAPTAIN BURKE — HOW HE 
FOUGHT ONE OF HIS PRIVATES— FAIR AND SQUARE 
—A TEAMSTER'S MANY TROUBLES— HOW A LIEU- 
TENANT GOT EVEN— CALAMITY JANE. 

A FTER we had formed this permanent camp, 
/\ Jenny and his assistants, who were miners and 
zL^ citizens, he being allowed five of them, went 
A j^ prospecting. In two weeks they found gold 
on this creek in paying quantities. They 
then went over the divide to Spring Creek, which 
was but a few miles from their camp. They also 
found gold there. It then became necessary 
to send twenty-five teams back to Fort Laramie for 
supplies. I was detailed as one of the twenty-five. 
This trip was under the command of Captain Burke. 
He was stationed at Fort Laramie when I arrived 
there and during my stay. Officers of these frontier 
posts favored, if possible, the teams and teamsters 
that were stationed in their posts. Captain Burke had 
risen from the ranks and was universally liked by all 
who knew him, especially the citizens. In the army 
at this time officers graduating from West Point 
usually looked down on officers who had risen from 
the ranks, but not so in Captain Burke's case, as he 
was a very square and just man. I will cite you one 
instance of his character as a man. 

Some two years prior to this time at Fort Laramie, 
the- first sergeant of Burke's company, I, of the 14th 
infantry, reported to him that he had a very trouble- 
some, fighting soldier in the company, and who had 
whipped in a fist fight two or three of his men and 
who bragged that he could whip any man in Fort 
Laramie in a rough and tumble fight. Burke told the 



HARD KNOCKS Page 160 

sergeant that at guard mount next day to march the 
company down to the banks of the Platte Rver, about 
a quarter of a mile east of the parade grounds. To 
do this, they had to march by the teamsters' quarters 
at the corral. The next day we teamsters, seeing the 
company march by, wondered where they were going. 
Suddenly they halted, and I and three others ran 
down there to see what they were doing. Just as 
we arrived, Burke had ordered this man, whose name 
was Murphy, to advance five paces in front of the 
company. The soldier did so. Burke then addressed 
him as follows: 

"My good man, my first sergeant informs me that 
you have been making a great deal of trouble in the 
company by fighting with and bullying your com- 
panions. He also states that you have made a boast 
that you can whip, in a rough and tumble fight, any 
man in Fort Laramie, and I am here to inform you 
that there is one man in Fort Laramie who doubts 
your ability to fulfill your boast, and that man is L" 

The soldier rephed: "You forget that you are a 
captain and I a private, and that I dare not fight you." 

Burke leisurely unbuttoned his coat, removing it, 
and throwing it on the grass between himself and the 
soldier, remarked: "There lies Captain Burke and 
here stands plain, ordinary Dan Burke. Now prepare 
yourself by removing your blouse and hat, for you are 
going to have the time of your life." The soldier did 
so, and at it they went ; first one having the best of it, 
and then the other. 

They fought over the grass, rolling over and over; 
sometimes Burke on top, other times the soldier. Blood 
flowed freely. Finally, Burke got him by the throat 
with his left hand, he being on top, then pressing his 
knee against his abdomen, in the meantime choking 
and punching him in the face, until the soldier shouted, 
"enough." Burke arose, walked over to where his coat 




CALIFORNIA JOE 
The great mountaineer and guide in the Black Hills, S. D. (Sketch) 



Page 161 HARDKNOCKS 

and cap were; the soldier being unable to rise, two or 
three men stepped forward and helped him to his 
feet, and I assure you he was a sight. Burke was 
also very much disfigured. Captain Burke facing the 
soldier, then said: "Now go back to your quarters 
and behave yourself and always remember that there 
is one man at this post you cannot whip." He then 
marched the company back to their quarters, and in 
the future this soldier was a "good dog." 

The news of this fight soon spread around the 
country, and I assure you that Burke raised a great 
many notches in the estimation of all who knew him. 

We arrived at Fort Laramie in due time, nothing 
of particular interest occurring on the trip. We re- 
mained in Fort Laramie about a week, having our 
harnesses repaired, mules shod and wagons loaded. 
One beautiful morning orders were given for us to 
return to Jenny's camp, Burke still being in command. 

At this time a lieutenant arrived at Fort Laramie 
from Arizona. His name was Ray. He had served 
under General Crook in the Apache War. He was 
a "West Pointer" — as we termed those who had grad- 
uated there — and had a very exalted opinion of him- 
self, and hated a citizen and especially a teamster. 
He was appointed quartermaster on this return trip. 
To have the reader understand the authority invested 
in a quartermaster, I must explain that they have 
entire charge of the transportation and are held re- 
sponsible to the commanding officer for anything 
occurring. The first day out this quartermaster began 
abusing the teamsters for any trifling thing they 
might do, and was very profane in his remarks, often 
calling them very vile names. We teamsters knew we 
had struck a tartar and tried our best to keep out 
of trouble with him. 

About the third day out this fellow issued an 
order to the effect that all teamsters, after unhitching 



HARD KNOCKS Page 162 

their mules, after arrival in camp, should put their 
halters on them and lead them fifty paces from the 
camp. His reason for doing this was that the mules, 
in being turned loose at the wagon, might stumble 
against the guy ropes of the officers' tents and annoy 
them. When unharnessing the mules, as soon as the 
teamster has released the hames from the collars, 
unbuckled the belly bands and unbuckled the collar, 
the mules are gone with half the harness, if the 
teamster is not very quick. The mules to some extent 
are trained this way and to break them in to waiting 
until they were completely unharnessed would be a 
difficult job, as they were always very anxious to get 
out to feed, since we did not carry feed for them on 
these expeditions, not having room; the mules living 
entirely on grass. As soon as they were released, 
two or three teamsters were detailed each day to 
herd them. Consequently, we paid no attention to the 
order. The quartermaster did not notice this for a 
couple of days. 

We had a teamster in the outfit named Phillips. 
He was a Missourian ; very long and gangling, and the 
butt of all our jokes. The quartermaster happened to 
come along when Phillips was unhitching. He drove 
four mules attached to an ambulance. He had just 
turned two of his mules loose, when Ray called him 
a vile name, saying, "Don't you know that I issued 

an order that you d teamsters were to halter and 

lead your mules fifty paces out of camp?" 

Phillips did not answer him but proceeded to 
unharness another mule. The quartermaster rushed 
up to him and kicked him. Quicker than lightning, 
Phillips shot out that great, large fist of his, hitting 
the quartermaster between the eyes, knocking him 
down. Ray had a six-shooter in a scabbard, which was 
covered by a flap and buttoned, the same being at- 
tached to his belt. Reaching around he attempted to 



Page 163 HARDKNOCKS 

unbutton this flap to draw his six-shooter. Phillips 
rushed to the front box of the ambulance where he 
carried his gun, getting it and throwing it down on 
Ray, telling him not to draw that six-shooter or he 
would kill him. 

Ray exclaimed, "Don't shoot, teamster, don't 
shoot." Then, getting up, walked away, PhilHps re- 
suming the unhitching. 

In about thirty minutes a corporal and three men 
put Phillips under arrest, and escorted him up to 
Captain Burke's tent, where Ray had already gone. 
The first question Burke asked the teamster was, "In 
what post are you employed?" 

He replied, "Fort Laramie." 

Burke then said, "The quartermaster informs me 
that you disobeyed his orders and also struck him. 
Is this a fact?" 

Phillips replied, "Yes, sir." 

"Why did you do so?" 

Phillips then explained to Captain Burke the whole 
circumstances, also telling him that it would be almost 
impossible for a teamster to obey this order, and that 
he was very sorry it led up to any trouble. Burke 
then turned to the quartermaster, saying, "Lieutenant, 
I think you are too severe on our teamsters. This 
mode of treatment of them might do in Arizona but 
not in this country, and unless you change your ways, 
some of these Fort Laramie teamsters will severely 
injure you, for I know many of them and they are a 
hard set." 

This was a good lesson to Ray and before the 
expedition was over we had very little trouble getting 
along with him. 

With this same expedition was another young 
lieutenant; I can't remember his name, but he had 
recently arrived from West Point. One day, my team 



HARD KNOCKS Page 164 

being in the lead, I saw sitting on the prairie by the 
side of a river, Captain Burke and three officers. Burke 
motioned me to drive in toward them. Then I knew 
we were going to camp there for the night. When I 
got up to where they were, I said, "Captain, where do 
you want this wagon to stand?" 

He replied, "Unhitch where you are, teamster." 

I had unhitched four of the mules, when this 
blustering, little lieutenant came along, and in a loud 
voice asked me why I was unhitching there. I told 
him, by orders of Captain Burke. He fumed around, 
finally ordering me to pull the wagon up ten paces 
further. I paid no attention to him and kept on un- 
hitching the other team of mules. I thought the 
fellow would go crazy. Finally a mild voice said, 
"Lieutenant, what seems to be the trouble with you 
and that gentleman?" with emphasis on the gentle- 
man, for it was very, very seldom a teamster was 
called a gentleman by an army officer. 

However, the lieutenant saluted and replied, "1 
wish this wagon moved ten paces." 

Burke then said : "No, no, Ueutenant, I ordered the 
gentleman to unhitch there." I will ask the reader 
how could any teamster dislike this Captain Burke. 

I had been around government long enough to 
know that this lieutenant, if he stayed with the ex- 
pedition long enough, and having it in for me, would 
make it unpleasant for me if the opportunity pre- 
sented itself, and sure enough it was but a few days 
before he supposedly got his revenge. 

The quartermaster had issued an order that all 
teamsters should continuously ride their near saddle 
mule while in motion. On all government wagons 
teamsters would construct what we called a lazy 
board. This was pushed under the wagon-bed between 



Page 165 HARDKNOCKS 

the fore and hind wheels on the near or left-hand side 
of the wagon, and when we got tired riding the saddle 
mule, we would pull out this lazy board and sit on it. 
This order was just, as a teamster sitting on the lazy- 
board could not see all of his team. However, I was 
sitting on this lazy board when along came my friend, 
the lieutenant, and said, "Get up on that saddle mule." 
I did so. He rode by my side, he being mounted, for 
a half hour in hopes that I might say something to 
him, but not one word from me. When we arrived in 
camp and unhitched, a corporal walked down to our 
mess and informed me that the commanding officer 
wanted to see me. I went up there, and found, 
standing in the tent, the lieutenant. Captain Burke 
informed me that the lieutenant had reported me for 
disobeying orders by riding on my lazy board. I 
admitted the fact. Burke then turned to the lieuten- 
ant and said : "I am going to give this teamster a very 
severe sentence." This rather startled me. However, 
turning to me. Captain Burke said: "Teamster, go 
down to your mess, get an axe and immediately 
destroy that lazy board. After you have done so, 
bring the pieces and lay them at the door of this 
lieutenant's tent." I thanked him and backed out of 
the tent. I have no recollection of that lazy board 
being destroyed by me. 

In due time we arrived at Jenny Camp and found 
that Professor Jenny had satisfied himself that gold 
was in paying quantities in that portion of the Black 
Hills. I will here mention why this portion of the 
country was called the Black Hills. On the outskirts 
of these hills and visible from the plains were a great 
many pine trees, very black, but upon getting close to 
them, they were a pronounced dark green. Thus the 
name "Black Hills." 

It was from here that Professor Jenny and Pro- 
fessor McGillacuty sent their first report to the 



HARD KNOCKS Page 166 

authorities in Washington. This report was trans- 
ported by carrier to Fort Laramie and from there 
mailed to Washington. We remained in camp there 
awaiting orders, which came after the authorities 
had received this report. They ordered Jenny to 
further explore these hills. This order was imparted 
to Colonel Dodge and in three days we were again 
on the move. 

As mentioned previously, I stated that California 
Joe was our guide. To give the reader some idea of 
the task that this man was attempting in an unknown 
country, I will explain that there were one hundred 
six-mule teams and ten companies of soldiers, part 
of which were cavalry. The mules and cavalry horses 
had to have grass and water to subsist on. The men 
also had to have water, and the commissaries that 
sustained these men, had to be transported with them. 
Bear in mind that there were no roads in this 
country and suitable ground had to be selected by 
the guide in order that the teams and soldiers could 
get through. Not once on the whole trip did this man 
make a mistake, and never one dry camp did we have 
to make. 

After entering the hills, California Joe traveled 
entirely on foot, accompanied by a large black hound. 
Wearing an old cavalry overcoat, cavalry pants tucked 
in his boot tops, his gun in hand, and on his head an 
old black, broad-brimmed slouch hat, he would start 
out about the break of day, and before the command 
was ready to move, Joe would ascend to a hilltop and 
with his hands shading his eyes, would scan the 
country in all directions. He would then return to 
camp and report to Colonel Dodge, telling him the 
direction he wanted the teams to travel that day and 
that at times he would intercept us, if he wanted the 
route changed. This much accomplished, California 
Joe would then fill a buckskin sack with food enough 



Page 167 HARDKNOCKS 

to last twenty-four hours for both himself and the 
dog, carrying the sack himself. 

We usually followed the ridges, sometimes descend- 
ing to the river bed, and a few times it would be 
necessary to rough-lock with chains, the wagon wheels, 
and with a rope attached to the hind axle, then taking 
a turn with the rope around a tree; in this way se- 
curing the wagon, as otherwise it would have been 
impossible to have gotten down to the river bed. We 
never, at any time, turned back. Joe would appear 
on an average of twice a day to see how we were 
getting along. 

I remember one afternoon, after having had a 
pretty hard time of it all the morning. Colonel Dodge 
stopped the command to rest, when Joe happened to 
come along. Being driver of the headquarter wagon, 
I was always close to Colonel Dodge and his officers, 
and overheard Dodge ask Joe where we were going 
to camp that night. 

Joe replied, "Colonel, do you see those two 
mountains off to the west? There we will find the 
headwaters of some river." 

"How do you know this, Joe? You say you have 
never been in here before." 

All the reply Joe would make was: "I can tell by 
the lay of the country." 

Dodge smiled and said: "Joe, where is due north 
and south?" 

Immediately Joe broke off a piece of dry grass 
and holding it between his thumb and finger, said: 
"Colonel, take out your store compass and if this 
piece is not pointing due north, I will eat my old hat." 

Sure enough it was. The colonel looked at Joe a 
moment, and then said: "Joe, I would follow you 
through the wilds of Africa." 



HARD KNOCKS Page 168 

"Well," said Joe, shrugging his shoulders, "I could 
take you and the outfit through there." 

To which Dodge replied: "I beheve you." Then 
turning to the bugler, he ordered him to blow the 
march. We then moved on and in three hours we 
found the headwaters of Red River, and a beautiful 
spot it was. Surrounding it was a small, open valley, 
with plenty of grass, and to the astonishment of 
Professor Jenny, he found timothy hay growing there 
three feet high. How the seed ever got there was 
always a mystery. 

Poor Joe was killed in 1878 by a teamster named 
Graham. They had been imbibing pretty freely at 
Cuney & Coffee's ranch, six miles above Fort Laramie 
on the Laramie River, and got into a dispute regard- 
ing our trip through the Black Hills, Graham having 
been a teamster at the time. They finally agreed to go 
out back of this ranch, put their backs together and 
walk fifteen steps in opposite directions, then turn 
and fire. Graham's nerve deserting him, friends 
interfered and stopped the quarrel. About two months 
later some teams were camped near Red Cloud Agency, 
Graham being one of the teamsters. Joe, who was 
living in that section of the country and seeing the 
teams camped, walked toward them; Graham seeing 
him, seized his gun and resting it on the wagon wheel, 
shot poor old Joe, killing him instantly. Graham 
immediately took to the hills, but was followed by a 
posse and captured three days later and was hanged 
to a tree. Thus ended one of the greatest mountain- 
eers the west ever produced, and also ended the 
career of a black-hearted murderer. 

Professor Jenny prospected these hills thoroughly. 
We often made camp and remained there for ten or 
fifteen days while he was doing so. Finally we got 
through the hills, coming out on the northwest side 



Page 169 HARDKNOCKS 

to the plains. We then skirted the hills on the north 
and east side on our way back to Fort Laramie, from 
where we had been gone five months. 

The day before we arrived at Fort Laramie, my 
friend Botsford rode up to me and said, "Young, I 
don't know how to thank you for all you have done 
for me. This has been a glorious trip through a 
wonderful country and never in my life have I felt 
better and never in my life have I thought more of 
myself. With your assistance I have fought the fight 
of my life, and some day in the near future I will 
repay you ten-fold for what you have done for me." 
Taking me by the hand, he bowed his head and cried 
like a child. 

I said to him, "Botsford, when we arrive at the 
post, don't forget that there is a sutler store there 
and in that sutler store they sell vile whiskey." 

He rephed, "Don't fear! never again! California 
Joe and I, when we receive our pay, are going to fit 
ourselves out and go back into the hills. I have 
selected a place there, and if it comes up to my ex- 
pectation, you, Joe and myself, will have all the money 
we want tor the balance of our lives. You need not 
come back with us, but if successful, I will find you 
if you are on earth." They remained at Laramie for 
only five days, then returning to the hills. I will ex- 
plain to the readers later on how this man kept his 
word. 

At this time, the true story of Calamity Jane's 
history will not be amiss. She was born at Fort 
Laramie in 1860. She was the daughter of a soldier 
named Dalton. Dalton was discharged from the army 
in 1861, and with his wife and daughter settled on a 
hay ranch on a stream called the La Bontie, 120 miles 
from Fort Laramie. In the early fall of that year a 
large body of Sioux Indians raided that country, kill- 



HARD KNOCKS Page 170 

ing all white persons that happened in their path. 
Among those killed was Dalton. Mrs. Dalton was shot 
in the eye with an arrow, destroying the sight, and 
with her own hand extracted the arrow and quickly 
bandaging the eye, placed her one-year old daughter 
on her back and managed to escape. Traveling nights 
and hiding by day, subsisting on weeds and roots, she 
finally managed to reach Fort Laramie in eight days, 
a mere skeleton of her former self, her clothing torn 
to shreds. Before medical aid could be procured, she 
expired. Sergeant Bassett, of company I, 14th in- 
fantry, and his wife adopted the child and prefixed to 
her name, Jane Dalton, the word "Calamity," so hence- 
forth she was known as Calamity Jane. She was the 
pet of the fort and lived there until the spring of 
1875. Jane was then about fifteen years of age, quite 
good looking, dark complexioned, black eyes and black 
hair, which she wore short. She had no particular use 
for a citizen, but anybody with a blue coat and brass 
buttons, could catch Calamity. 

At this time Calamity Jane was enamored with 
Sergeant Shaw, of company E, 3rd cavalry. His com- 
pany having been detailed on the Jennie expedition, 
and she wanting to accompany him, he suggested that 
she wear cavalry clothes. He then secretly took her 
to the company's tailor and fitted her out with a com- 
plete uniform. One not knowing her would never have 
taken her for a female. She spent her time entirely 
with this company and up to the time that we reached 
our first permanent camp, none but Shaw, and pos- 
sibly a few other soldiers, knew that she was with the 
expedition. 

In constructing this first permanent camp, they 
arranged the officers' tents in a square, covering them 
with bows cut from trees. 'This left a large space 
which was termed the parade ground. One of the 
tents was used as a sutler store, where was sold 



Page 171 HARDKNOCKS 

whiskey, tobacco, etc. One morning Calamity had 
occasion to cross this square. Unfortunately, she met 
an officer, who was a German and a great disciplin- 
arian, and having no chance to get by him, saluted him 
in true soldierly style. He saluted in return. Quite 
a number of officers were standing in front of the 
sutler tent, one of them knowing Calamity and seeing 
an opportunity for a joke on this officer, when the 
latter approached them he laughed at him. He asked 
him what he was laughing at. He made no reply, but 
laughed louder. The officer then demanded to know 
why they were laughing at him. They finally told 
him that the soldier he had just saluted was Calamity 
Jane. His dignity was hurt and he immediately made 
an investigation and found that it was true, and also 
found that Calamity was consorting with Ist-officer 
Shaw, which caused Shaw to be severely reprimanded, 
and also had an order issued expelling Calamity from 
the camp. Poor Calamity was in a quandary what to 
do. She could not go back to Fort Laramie alone, as 
the Indians were bad, etc. 

As a final resort. Calamity Jane came up on the 
hill to where we teamsters were camped, and knowing 
me well, asked if she could go along with us. If so, 
she would do the cooking for our mess. I finally got 
permission from the wagonmaster to allow her to 
travel and camp with us. This compelled her to change 
her soldiers' clothes for citizen clothes, which we fur- 
nished her. She remained with us the balance of the 
way and naturally I saw much of her. When we 
moved camp, Calamity rode in my wagon whenever she 
got tired of walking. 

One day when crossing Spring Creek, my wagon 
turned over as I was making a turn, which threw the 
rear end of the wagon into quite deep water. Calamity 
being under the wagon sheet, was compelled to crawl 
out of the hind end, and in doing so, fell into the 



HARD KNOCKS Page 172 

water up to her neck. My! how she did swear at me; 
and she always seemed to have the idea that I did it 
purposely, but such was not the case, as it was con- 
sidered a disgrace for a teamster to capsize his wagon 
and was also a great trouble to him. This girl be- 
came a very notorious character and I will later on 
speak of her further. 

Before arriving at the Platte River, where Fort 
Laramie was situated, there was a high divide and 
when my team reached the pinacle of this divide, 
which gave them a view of the post and three very 
large hay stacks, they were about half starved and 
very, very thin and were also very much skinned up 
by the friction of the harness which they wore. Con- 
sequently, when my lead team saw this post, they 
began to bray, the balance of the hundred teams 
taking it up, making a horrible noise which was 
deafening. We had made this trip by long, severe 
drives and had not given the mules much chance to 
graze. However, the poor animals were now in sight 
of something good to eat, which accounted for the 
deafening noise they made. 

On arriving at the river, we found a rudely con- 
structed ferry boat or raft. This would only carry one 
team at a time. It being now about four o'clock in 
the afternoon, and by using this ferry, it would have 
taken all night to have ferried us across. The river 
in the channel for about fifty feet was deep enough 
to compel a team to swim. The wagons were about 
empty, as all the commissaries were about used up. 
I suggested to the wagonmaster, Jim Duncan, that we 
swim the outfit over. After some talk he consented 
to do so. Being mounted on a sorrel mule, he waded 
out in the river to the edge of the channel, with a 
whip in his hand, and, as we drove out to where he 
stood, he headed the teams upstream. This was a 
wonderful and exciting experience, as some mules were 



Page 173 HARDKNOCKS 

good swimmers; others would not swim, but as the 
channel was not wide, by the time the wheelers were 
compelled to swim, the leaders were far enough across 
to touch the bottom. 

We succeeded in crossing the outfit in about two 
hours without losing a mule or having any serious 
accident. Jim then corraled the outfit, the mules 
braying all the time, when suddenly there loomed up, 
coming from the post, two large loads of hay. At the 
sight of this hay, the starved mules became almost 
unmanageable, jumping over the wagon tongue to 
which they were tied three on a side, getting tangled 
up in their halter shanks; some breaking away from 
the tongue and running toward the loads of hay, tear- 
ing into it, grasping great mouthfuls and devouring 
it. After feeding the teams, giving them all they 
could eat, two more wagons arrived loaded with sacks 
of oats. We then attached our feed box to the wagon 
tongue and fed them all they could eat. We remained 
in this camp for five days, and it is wonderful how 
these mules picked up flesh and, mule-like, they would 
kick one's head off if he were not very careful while 
wandering among them. Such is mule gratitude. 

I have mentioned a great deal the expression "six- 
mule team" and for the benefit of the readers, I will 
describe a six-mule team, then in use by the gov- 
ernment. 

Starting in at the wagon, the two mules hitched, 
one on each side of the tongue, were termed wheelers 
or wheel-mules. Attached to the end of this tongue 
was what was termed a gooseneck, and attached to 
this gooseneck was what were called spreaders, which 
consisted of a straight bar, and on each end of this 
bar were single-trees, and to these were attached 
what was called the swing team. Also from the end 
of this tongue was attached a chain about twelve 



HARD KNOCKS Page 174 

feet long, called a fifth chain, running between the 
swing mules. Suspended from the inside hame of each 
swing-mule was a small chain with a ring in the 
center, through which the fifth chain ran. This ap- 
pliance was to keep the chain from sagging on the 
ground. To the end of this chain was another pair 
of spreaders, hghter in construction than the one at 
the end of the tongue, and to this was attached the 
lead mules. To the near lead mule or left-hand mule, 
from a small chain suspended from the lower part of 
the bit of the bridle was attached a strap made of 
leather about an inch and a half wide on that end, in- 
creasing in width and reaching back to the wheel- 
mule. This was called a lead line. The driver of the 
team sat in a saddle on the near wheel-mule, holding 
this strap in his hand when guiding the team. To the 
outer hame of the outside lead-mule was attached 
what was known as a jockey stick, which was about 
the size of a broom-stick. The opposite end of this 
stick was attached to the bit of the off-lead mule or 
the right-hand one. If one wanted the team to go 
to the right or gee, as it was called, the teamster 
jerked his lead line, and the near lead-mule, having 
been previously broken, would immediately turn to the 
right, forcing its mate to go likewise. If the team- 
ster wanted to turn haw or to the left, he pulled on 
the lead line and they immediately turned. The traces 
used in those days were made of chain, covered with 
leather, which was called piping. This piping would 
become worn and the consequences would be that the 
bare chain would skin the mule up awfully, and I be- 
lieve that this is why they termed teamsters "mule- 
skinners." 

In those days there were no brakes on a gov- 
ernment wagon, and if we wanted to stop our team, 
we had to depend entirely upon the wheelers to do so. 
They were also broken mules and at the word "whoa," 



Page 175 HARDKNOCKS 

they would sit back in their breeching, spreading out 
from the tongue and with a chain, which was attached 
from the end of the tongue to their hames, they would 
hold back for dear life, and it is astonishing to me 
now how they ever did it. In going down very steep 
hills, we used a lock chain, which was attached to 
each side of the wagon near the hind wheels, and loop- 
ing this to the rim of the wheel behind a spoke, we 
would attach it with a hook and a small ring fitting 
over the end of the hook. This made the wheels 
stationary. Again, in going down very steep hills, we 
used a larger chain, which was called rought-locking. 
With the free end of this, we took two or three turns 
around the rim of the wheel, then making it fast, 
allowed it to drag on the ground under the wheels; 
thus the term "rough-locking." 



HARD KNOCKS Page 176 



CHAPTER XIX. 

JIM DUNCAN, THE GREAT WAGONMASTER — CAMP 
STAMBO IN THE SHOSHONE INDIAN COUNTRY- 
TRANSFERRING CAVALRY COMPANIES— BACK TO 
FORT STEELE AND FORT SAUNDERS— MY ONLY 
EXPERIENCE AS A WAGONMASTER — PARKING 
WOOD IN THE MOUNTAINS NEAR FORT FETTER- 
MAN— ATTACKED BY THE INDIANS, WHO KILLED 
MY PARTNER, MACK, THE WOOD-CHOPPER. 

JIM DUNCAN was one of the oldest of old-time 
wagonmasters in the west in those days. He 
had driven a spike team in the Mexican War. 
He had also acted as wagonmaster during our 
rebellion and after that unpleasant affair he, 
like hundreds of others, drifted to the far west. Jim 
stood almost seven feet; very raw boned in physique, 
long arms and legs, with very large hands and feet, 
a steel gray eye, which was very piercing when he 
looked at one, and a man absolutely fearless. His face 
was considerably scarred up, for in his young days 
he had participated in many broils, though not of his 
own seeking. He dressed entirely in soldiers clothes, 
wearing high topped boots, pants tucked in at the 
top. In cold weather he wore a cavalry coat and 
a black slouched hat, and I assure you he was the 
picture of manhood and one of the most kind-hearted 
men I ever had the pleasure of meeting. He admitted 
to me one day that he was eighty-five years of age. 
Jim Duncan was a great smoker and one scarcely 
ever saw him without his little briarwood pipe in his 
mouth. This pipe he would light, draw on it two or 
three times, then forget to draw and let it go out. 
He carried with him a pocketful of matches and was 
continually relighting his pipe. This amused us 
teamsters very much and I kept tab on him one day 




,% yll^ 










Page 177 HARDKNOCKS 

and in one-half hour he had lighted his pipe twenty- 
times, each time saying-, "D this pipe ; I can't seem 

to keep it lighted, and when I get time, I'm going to 

clean the d thing from mouth-piece to bowl," but 

I am quite sure that pipe was never cleaned. 

It was said of Jim that he had worked so long 
for the government that he could not sleep unless 
the odor of a mule permeated the air. His feet being 
so large, compelled him to have his boots made to 
order, and on going to bed at night, myself and two 
others occupying the same tent with him and sleeping 
side by side in our blankets, we noticed that he always 
put his boots under his head, same acting as a pillow. 
In getting up in the morning very early, the tent being 
dark, he would fumble around, extracting his right 
boot first. In pulling it on, he would use a great deal 
of profanity, damning his big feet and after a great 
deal of stamping around, would finally get his boots on. 
The left boot he had no trouble with. One night I 
suggested to one of the teamsters that we steal his 
right boot, which we did, secreting it under the 
blankets at the lower end of our bed. Jim got up in 
the morning as usual and taking the left boot, tried 
to put it on the right foot, and I assure you the air 
was blue in that tent. Finally he Ht a candle, then 
discovering that he had the left boot, he woke us up, 
or thought he did, and demanded his other boot. We 
all helped him hunt for it, finally finding it. He took 
it in his hand and looking at it a moment, said: 

"Either that d boot or I am crazy, and I believe 

I am the crazy one." This caused a great deal of 
laughter. 

I remember another time when many of us team- 
sters were in a variety show in Cheyenne, kept by a 
man named McDaniels, and on this occasion the 
audience (which was large) ran this show to suit 
themselves — taking possession of the stage, etc., and 



HARD KNOCKS Page 178 

if an actor or actress, or both, did not do their turn 
to suit, the audience would not allow the curtain to be 
lowered and made them do it over again. Jim this 
night was behind the scenes, the curtain dropped and 
he started to cross the stage, when someone suddenly 
raised the curtain. This exposed him about the 
center of the stage. The audience yelled with delight, 
many of them rushing on the stage, catching Jim, 
compelled him to do a turn before they would release 
him. This he did, singing in a cracked voice, with- 
out an accompaniment, that old-time song, "Betsy 
from Pike." At the end of this song, he danced an 
old-time jig. We compelled him to do this act three 
times, when the old fellow was exhausted. This 
made the greatest hit that ever appeared in McDaniels' 
Theatre. 

The Jenny expedition disbanded at Fort Laramie; 
soldiers and citizens being paid five months' wages. 
An order then came from the War Department to 
transfer Company M of the 2nd Cavalry to Camp 
Stambo, which was situated in the Wind River Valley 
in the Shoshone Indian country. From there we 
moved E of the 2nd Cavalry to Fort Saunders. With 
this transfer went twenty-five six-mule teams, I being 
one of the drivers and Duncan as wagonmaster. We 
started on the 30th of September and had a beautiful 
trip, arriving there in the early part of October. 

In that country was a very large hot springs and 
old Duncan having rheumatism very badly, we pre- 
vailed upon him to remain there for a month in hopes 
it would cure him. After a great deal of persuasion 
he finally did so. Each teamster donated a share of 
their provisions, or rations, and gave to him. This 
left a vacancy for a wagonmaster. Personally, I did 
not want the position, as I was rather quick tempered 
in those days and could not get along with army 
officers. However, Duncan insisted on my taking the 



Page 179 HARDKNOCKS 

job, to which I finally consented. Then the old fellow 
began to warn me not to have any trouble with the 
officers and to take good care of the mules, for if 
anything happened it would reflect upon him, as he 
had recommended me. I promised him that I would 
do the best I could. We finally started for Fort 
Steele on the line of the Union Pacific railroad. 

We had not left the post to exceed four hours when 
I had a misunderstanding with the first sergeant 
of the cavalry company. He was continually annoying 
the teamsters and finally turned on me. We were both 
mounted, I riding Duncan's saddle mule and he a 
cavalry horse. After a while I lost my temper, rushed 
at him; when he attempted to draw his six-shooter, 
I being quicker than he, struck him over the head 
with my gun, knocking him from the horse. The 
largest part of the company were away in advance of 
the teams. The soldiers ran to him, picking him up 
and dressing his wounds, tying a bandage around 
his head. The sergeant then mounted his horse and 
riding off, reported me to Captain Peal, telling him 
a lot of things that were not true. 

When we made camp that evening, the lieutenant, 
who was acting as quartermaster, detailed a corporal 
and three men, instructing them to bring me to his 
tent. They found me up in the mess wagon and 
ordered me to come with them, which I refused to do. 
The corporal attempted to get up in the hind end of 
the wagon, when I told him that if he came any 
farther, I would kill him. By this time the teamsters 
had gathered around the wagon, telling me that they 
would stand by me. Hearing the commotion, the 
lieutenant came up, telling the corporal to get up in 
the wagon and take me out. I told the lieutenant that 
I knew soldiers had to obey orders and instead of 
getting this man injured, for him to come up and take 
me out. He immediately took me at my word, and as 



HARD KNOCKS Page 180 

he arose to a standing position in the wagon, I tackled 
him, the teamsters holding the soldiers back so they 
could not injure me or assist the heutenant. Presently 
I heard the words, "What is all this trouble about?" 
Looking up, I saw Captain Peal. He knew me, having 
been stationed at Fort Laramie previous to this. They 
separated us and, taking me by the arm, the Captain 
walked me down to his tent and the first thing he did 
was to give me a good, stiff drink of brandy; then 
saying, "Wagonmaster, I want you to tell me your 
side of the trouble with my 1st Sergeant." I did so, 
telling him the truth. He then said, " I am surprised 
at you, knowing that we must have discipline, and I 
fear that you have gotten into serious difficulties." 
He then gave me another drink, which was very ac- 
ceptable under the circumstances; he, of course, each 
time joining me in the drink. 

The captain then said, "I do not want to punish 
you severely, but I should order you in irons until we 
arrive at Fort Steele." 

I replied, "Captain, I am a citizen, not a soldier, and 
am willing to quit my position and walk back to Camp 
Stambo, but I will not go in irons alive." 

"Then the only way out of this trouble that I can 
see is to form the company in line and have you make 
a public apology to the lieutenant, as the sergeant 
seems to be satisfied in his part of the affair and 
has not made any charge against you." I told him 
no; that I could not even do that. Presently, in came 
the lieutenant. The captain again passed the liquor 
around. The heutenant looking at both of us said, 
"Captain, this is a pretty husky wagonmaster we 
have." 

He replied, "Yes, he is an old acquaintance of mine 
from Fort Laramie, and lieutenant, if this man apol- 



Page 181 HARDKNOCKS 

ogizes to you here, are you willing to let the matter 
drop?" 

The lieutenant replied, "Yes, sir. I will do better 
than that. After his apology, I will shake him by the 
hand, for it takes a pretty good man to handle me 
the way he did, and I was very glad that you appeared 
on the scene when you did, for I fear I would not 
have been able to have continued on the trip." 

I made the apology and told him that I believed he 
was a good fellow after all. We then took another 
drink, and the matter ended there. The balance of 
the trip was very pleasant to all concerned. We 
finally arrived at Fort Steele, remained there a few 
days, then going down to Fort Saunders, situated 
near Laramie City, but now abandoned. There they 
turned the outfit over to me and I proceeded on to 
Camp Carlin, where I turned the teams over to the 
superintendent and was there paid my wages. The 
superintendent. Perry Organ, asked me to stay 
around there a few days and he would send me out as 
a wagonmaster with some teams going north. I 
thanked him, telling him that I had no more desire 
to be a wagonmaster. I remained there a few days 
until I got rid of my money in Cheyenne, from there 
going to Fort Fetterman. 

Upon arriving at Fort Fetterman, I met my old 
friend. Jack Hunton. Jack informed me that I was the 
very man he was looking for. He had the wood con- 
tract for that year for the post and was short about 
fifty cords to complete the contract. The Indians were 
quite bad around there at that time and it was diffi- 
cult to get a white man to go out in the mountains. 
He informed me that this wood was cut and piled on 
very steep side hills in the mountains twenty miles 
from there, and that he had arranged with one man 
named "Old Mack," the wood-chopper, but required 



HARD KNOCKS Page 182 

another to go with him. He offered me ten dollars per 
day, furnishing a mule-team, wagon, guns, blankets 
and provisions, if I would go, and help park this wood 
— meaning by that, to haul it from side hills to where 
they could get at it with ox teams to transport it to 
the post. I told him it depended on the other man, 
I not knowing him and wanting to know what kind of 
a man he was. I was introduced to the other man, 
and after talking with him for a time, found he was 
all right. I then accepted the position. We started 
out next morning, arriving at the spot about dark 
and there we found an old log cabin, it having been 
used by the wood choppers and there we made camp. 

That night I talked the matter over thoroughly 
with Mack, and we agreed to stay together, knowing 
the Indians were bad, and, if separated at any time, 
we were not under any circumstances to shoot a gun 
off unless it were at an Indian. We took this pre- 
caution as game was very plentiful in these mountains. 
We worked there for five days, I driving the team 
and after the wagon was loaded, we rough-locked it 
before starting down the steep hillside. Mack, walk- 
ing on the offside of the wagon, carrying both of the 
guns, I on the near side, driving the team, walking on 
the ground, as it would be dangerous to ride on the 
load in case anything should break. 

On the sixth day. Mack conceived the idea of burn- 
ing a charcoal pit, he having followed that occupation 
and understood it, explaining to me that in this way 
we could make some side money. I objected to this, 
reminding him of our agreement and also telling him 
that it was not treating Hunton right; that he had 
employed us to park wood, not to burn charcoal pits. 
However, he finally talked me into it and selected a 
place inclosed by three rocky ridges, on the edge of 
a deep, rough canyon through which flowed a stream, 
named Box Elder. This stream emptied into the 



Page 183 HARDKNOCKS 

Platte River, ten miles below there. The following 
morning he started out with his axe in one hand and 
gun in the other. We each carried forty-one rounds 
of ammunition, forty of which were in a belt around 
our bodies, the other in the gun. I put on a load of 
wood, now being alone and started down the hillside. 

On the opposite side of the wagon was a small 
stump which I could not see. I ran against this with 
the off forewheel. There was no way to get clear of 
it except to unload the wagon. This, of course, made 
me very angry at Mack. However, setting my gun 
against the rear wagon wheel, I started to throw off 
the wood and had thrown but a few sticks to the 
ground, when I heard a gun shot coming from the 
direction where Mack was. I quickly jumped to the 
ground when I heard the second shot. Grasping my 
gun, I ran up the hillside as fast as I could and when 
within a few feet of the top, I saw two Indians dis- 
appear over the ridge to the north. I knew then that 
Mack was killed. In a few moments a shot was fired 
from the opposite direction to where I saw the two 
Indians. Having my right hand around the breech of 
the gun near the trigger, the shot struck my finger, 
breaking the gun at the breech. Looking over my 
shoulder I saw three young bucks running toward 
me, occasionally dodging behind a rock. I could not 
shoot at them for my gun was out of commission and 
I dare not let them know by any action of mine, that 
such was the case. I knew my only chance was to 
get down into Box Elder Canyon, where it was very, 
very rough. Occasionally these fellows would take a 
shot at me, but fortunately not hitting me, and when 
they exposed themselves, I would point my gun at 
them, when they immediately would dodge to cover. 
I would then run farther down into the canyon, 
finally getting to the bottom and not seeing any more 
of my pursuers, I headed for the Platte River, crawl- 



HARD KNOCKS Page 184 

ing over and around great rocks and fallen trees. 
Darkness came on, but I still kept on going and tired 
and worn out I eventually reached the Platte River 
about daylight next morning. I then had open country 
to travel in and reached the post about one o'clock 
in the afternoon a sorrowful looking sight, my finger 
giving me a great deal of pain and all the time bleed- 
ing profusely. I had my finger attended to by the 
Post surgeon, to whom I reported the affair, then 
going to the commanding officer, reported it again to 
him. He looked at me a few moments, saying, "It 
serves you right. Why did you go out into the hills 
when you knew the Indians were bad around there?" 
I then asked him if he would give me an ambulance 
and a small escort of soldiers to go out and bring in 
the body. He then sent his orderly for some other 
officers and after some conversation, he furnished the 
escort, I going with them and riding in the ambulance. 

We got started about four in the afternoon and 
travehng rapidly we arrived at a spring about two 
miles from where the body lay. The officers ordered 
a halt; I supposed for the purpose of watering the 
horses, but to my astonishment, they began un- 
saddling them. I asked the lieutenant in charge if he 
were going to camp. He replied, "Yes, as it would 
be dangerous to go into the hills at that hour of the 
night." I then told him that I was afraid the wolves 
would eat the body and asked him to detail two 
soldiers to accompany me and I would take care of 
the body until they arrived in the morning. He finally 
did so. One of the men detailed was a very excitable 
fellow. When we arrived in the hills, I had no trouble 
finding Mack's body. He was lying on his face with 
his left hand under his breast, his right hand ex- 
tended, with two gun shots in his back, also an arrow 
which protruded about four inches. He was scalped 



Page 185 HARDKNOCKS 

completely, except for a little hair on the lower part 
of the head. 

We built a fire close by the body, and lay down 
quite a distance from the fire. The exciteable man 
would imagine every few moments that he saw an 
Indian crawling up on us and wanted to shoot at him. 
We had great trouble in convincing him that there 
was no danger from Indians at that time. Daylight 
finally came, the ambulance and escort arriving, when 
we loaded poor old Mack's body in the ambulance and 
started back to Fort Fetterman, arriving there about 
eleven o'clock in the morning. We immediately buried 
Mack as the stench from the body was then very bad. 
This ended my wood parking business and I never 
learned whether the job was completed or not. 

After the death of my partner, old Mac, I resumed 
my occupation of teamster at Fetterman, but only 
lasted one week. There were two chques of officers 
at that post, and when they wanted to have a good 
time they would select Sunday. Ordering one six- 
mule team hitched up, and putting liquid refreshments 
in the wagon, they proceeded up the Platte River 
about five miles, and there had their time. It was an 
unwritten law in all posts that teamsters did not 
hitch up Sundays unless it was an absolute necessity. 
This day was set apart for teamsters to wash and 
mend their clothes, etc. I refused to hitch up when 
ordered by the wagonmaster. He reported me to the 
quartermaster. I was then put under arrest, and 
finally was escorted by a sergeant and four men to the 
edge of the post, tied face up on a brass cannon that 
was used to fire at sunset each night. There I re- 
mained for twenty minutes. The flies were very plen- 
tiful, and they swarmed on my face and hands, get- 
ting up my nostrels and into my eyes. After releas- 
ing me, I still stood pat and would not hitch up the 
team. I was then put in the guard house until mid- 



HARD KNOCKS Page 186 

night and in the morning discharged and escorted off 
the reservation. I walked to Fort Laramie, a black- 
balled teamster. The reader would naturally ask, why 
did you stand for this treatment ? Simply because you 
could not help yourself, as government posts were 
far from towns, and if you wished to remain in the 
post and follow the business of teamster you had to 
stand for many things. The officers were supreme. 



Page 187 HARDKNOCKS 



CHAPTER XX. 

CUSTER CITY, THE FIRST TOWN ESTABLISHED IN THE 
BLACK HILLS— HEYDAY TIMES IN THE HILLS- 
PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT. 

ON the first day of November, 1875, there 
came into Fort Laramie a Mr. Jones, Mart 
Gibbons, Charley Smith, and another old 
gentleman, whose name I can't recall. The 
first two mentioned I knew on Red Cloud 
Agency when I worked there. They had a four- 
horse team loaded with supplies and in the load was 
a barrel of high-proof whiskey. Jones was originally 
from California, having kept merchandising stores at 
various mining camps in that country. They were all 
well armed and were going into the Black Hills. Jones 
and Gibbons invited me to go with them. We started 
and in due time arrived at Jenny's old camp on French 
Creek. There we found quite a number of houses of 
various size constructed of logs, some of which were 
hewn, and living there were about a hundred men, 
mostly miners. They were getting good pay from the 
creek and as this looked good to us, we remained there. 
Others came. The town grew rapidly and I finally 
concluded to go into the saloon business in a small 
way. Jones having this barrel of whiskey, I knew 
I could get a starter there, but where to get the 
glasses and other paraphernalia that would be neces- 
sary for a saloon, I did not know. 

However, I rented one of the vacant buildings, 
intending to start up with the whiskey alone. In a 
few days a large outfit arrived there and among them 
was an old friend of mine named Sam Gaylord, whom 
I used to know in Dodge City, Kansas. He had a bar 
outfit, intending to go into the saloon business. Gay- 
lord having brought plenty of liquor with him of 



HARD KNOCKS Page 188 

various kinds and I having the location, we entered 
into a partnership and opened up the best equipped 
saloon that was ever conducted in Custer City. 

After the town began to get established, the 
leading citizens called a meeting for the purpose of 
forming some kind of local government there and 
finally decided to have a provincial government. The 
next night they met again. These meetings were held 
in our saloon, which of course brought business to 
our bar. They then appointed a man named Farnum 
for Mayor; another by the name of Keiffer, was ap- 
pointed Justice of the Peace; appointed another man 
as prosecuting attorney, whose name I forgot; John 
Burrows was made marshal. Burrows was from 
Denver, Colorado, and had been marshal there. He 
was quite large in stature and always wore two large 
six-shooters stuck in his belt. The appointment of 
marshal had been first offered to me, but I refused. 
Four days later the Mayor and Prosecuting Attorney 
concluded that Burrows should have a deputy, as the 
hours were too long for one man. They advised me to 
take this position and as it would make me more 
popular and would bring business to the saloon, I 
accepted, taking the watch from twelve noon until 
twelve midnight; Burrows taking the other shift. 

In the meantime people were arriving in large 
numbers and it kept both Burrows and myself quite 
busy keeping order. The principle of this provincial 
government was, that if the law was broken in any 
way, we tried the offender in day hght, subpoening a 
jury of twelve men and, if he had means, he had the 
privilege of employing an attorney or some one to 
defend him. If found guilty of a serious offense, we 
would send him to Cheyenne, where he could be tried 
in a recognized court of justice. If not serious, we 
always fined him in dollars and cents, this money being 
used to defray expenses of our government. 



Page 189 HARDKNOCKS 

One afternoon while I was on duty, I was sitting 
in a barber's chair getting shaved. The barber had 
just lathered my face, when I heard a gun shot and in 
a few moments another shot. I snatched the towel 
from my neck and wiping off the lather, rushed out 
of the door, and saw a man lying on the ground and 
another man standing over him with a six-shooter in 
his hand. They were in front of a saloon about fifty 
yards away from where I stood; the saloon being 
situated on the bank of the creek. With others I ran 
down there and sneaking up behind the man who was 
standing, caught him around the arms pinning them 
to his side, and asked some one in the crowd to 
disarm him, which they did. I then hurried him into 
a vacant log cabin close by, closing the door and 
barring it and admitting only two others with me. 
We then found that the man who did the shooting was 
intoxicated and was very much excited. I told him 
to compose himself as I wanted to ask him some 
questions. He sat down on the floor and cried like 
a child, but finally controlling himself, when I asked 
him why he had killed the other man. He replied, 
"My God, is he dead? He is my partner and the 
best friend I ever had in the world." Further question- 
ing him for his name and where he was from, he told 
me he was Tom Milligan and that he was from Eureka, 
Nevada. I then left him in charge of the other two 
men and, going out of doors, inquired of two or three 
persons who saw the shooting, how it occurred. 

I learned from these men that Milligan and his 
partner staggered out of the saloon door, his partner 
telling Milligan to take a shot at an oaken bucket 
that we used in drawing water from a well, situated in 
the center of the town. Milligan did so. He then 
said, "Shoot again, Tom." As Tom did so, his partner 
staggered in front of him and the ball penetrated his 
head above the right eye, killing him instantly. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 190 

A very large crowd in the meantime had gathered 
around the cabin where I had him confined, and not 
knowing the particulars of the shooting, made threats 
that they wanted to hang him. I talked to them, tell- 
ing them about our form of government there and 
that we would give him a trial the following day, and 
that they must not harm him. Some agreed to this, 
while others threatened what they would do. By this 
time it was getting dark and I entered the cabin and 
talked with Milligan. He told me he knew that he 
would be hanged that night. I replied, "If they hang 
you tonight, they will have to kill me first; and to 
show you I mean what I say, I will send one of these 
men up to my saloon and have him bring down here 
two guns, one a shotgun loaded with buckshot and the 
other a Winchester. You can take one and I the other 
and when it gets a little darker, I am going to take 
you down the creek to where I have a long cabin, and 
there you will be safer than you are here." 

This surprised him very much and gave him great 
confidence in me. I then sent one of the men to my 
place. He procured the guns and brought them to me. 
I offered Milligan his choice and he took the Win- 
chester. 

Four or five of my friends wanted to assist me in 
protecting the prisoner, but I told them no, and that 
they could better protect him by mingling among the 
crowd, advising the crowd to wait until the morrow 
before they attempted any violence, and that I would 
assure them that they would change their minds when 
they heard the evidence. This they did. I then took 
Milligan down to the cabin mentioned, remaining there 
until nine o'clock the next morning. 

When I brought the prisoner up to the building 
used for the courtroom, it was crowded. And there 
I discovered Milligan was a prominent Mason in good 



Page 191 HARDKNOCKS 

standing. Personally, I am not a Mason, but I could 
readily see in the actions of men whom I knew were, 
that Milligan would get a fair and square trial. About 
this time Burrows appeared on the scene and strutted 
around like a peacock, being very officious. I had 
sent the two men the night previous to find Burrows, 
but he could not be found. This convinced me that he 
was a coward, and I paid no attention to him. We 
gave Milligan his trial and the jury acquitted him, 
except that they fined him twenty-five dollars for 
shooting his gun off within the city limits. 

The trial over, we buried Milligan's partner that 
afternoon. Milligan attended the funeral, I walking 
by his side, and never in my life have I seen a man 
so deeply affected. There were many in the town who 
still wished to hang him, and thinking they might in- 
jure him, I advised him to leave Custer that night. He 
told me he had no horse. I loaned him mine and he 
left about ten o'clock. I told him if he arrived at 
Fort Laramie safely to send the horse back to me by 
someone he could trust. Fortunately, when he ar- 
rived at Laramie, he met his brother Ed, who was 
also from Eureka, and of course told him about the 
manner in which I had treated him and about his 
trouble, turning the horse over to Ed, who arrived in 
Custer in due time, and we naturally became great 
friends. 

I never knew what became of Tom after he 
reached Laramie, but poor Ed two years later, I heard, 
shot himself accidentally and died from the wounds 
in Sidney, Nebraska. 

After this experience, I concluded I did not want 
any more of the "marshal business," and resigned the 
following day. This killing was the first white man 
killed by one of his own race in the Black Hills. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 192 



CHAPTER XXI. 

ORGANIZING THE CUSTER CITY SCOUTS — CAPTAIN 
JACK CRAWFORD, THE POST SCOUT— THE DEAD- 
WOOD STAMPEDE— JIM WALL— A DYING CONFES- 
FESSION FROM A MAN WHO DID NOT DIE. 

REQUIRING more buildings in the town, quite 
a number of men engaged in the occupation 
of cutting and hauling logs suitable for that 
purpose, the trees growing on a ridge about 
two miles distant. While engaged in this 
business the Sioux Indians killed two of the party, 
and the men refused to continue work until the citi- 
zens called a meeting to discuss some means of protec- 
tion for them. This the citizens did, the meeting 
taking place in my saloon. 

The evening of the meeting there arrived in the 
town a man with long hair, broad-brimmed hat and 
wearing a buckskin jacket. Hearing of the meeting, 
he came down into the saloon and introduced himself 
to me as Jack Crawford and said he was a corres- 
pondent for the Omaha Bee, and would like to report 
this meeting. I introduced him to the mayor and two 
others, who granted him the privilege sought. At 
the meeting we concluded to appoint five men to act 
as guards for the log cutters, and named them the 
Custer City Scouts. Later in the evening Crawford 
took me aside, saying, "Young, the principal part of 
my business out here is to make a reputation, study 
the habits of the country, and, if possible, to learn 
something of the Sioux Indians." He also told me 
that he was a poet, and in an off-hand way, quoted 
some poetry of the Bret Harte style, which I consid- 
ered very good. He then asked me if I could have 
him appointed chief of our scouts. Having made a 
good impression upon me, I told him I would talk with 



Page 193 HARDKNOCKS 

the mayor, and I asked him to call on me next morn- 
ing. The mayor and others took kindly to the propo- 
sition and the following day we appointed him the 
chief. We then notified the log cutters of what had 
taken place and they immediately resumed work under 
the guard appointed. 

This was the means of bringing Crawford his first 
notoriety as a scout. He was a temperate man, neither 
drinking nor using tobacco; something very unusual 
in those days. He became very popular there and 
entertained us very often with his poems. 

Crawford being out one day on a scouting trip alone, 
found lying in the grass, very sick, what he supposed 
to be a full-blooded Sioux Indian. Jack gave him some 
water, and seeing his chance to learn something of the 
Indian characteristics, secretly brought this sick man 
to his cabin after dark, and took care of him, not 
letting any of the citizens know, as he feared they 
might kill him. The Indian finally became so sick 
that he concluded he was going to die, and turning 
to Jack said in good English, "Go down and bring 
Young up here. I knew him at Fort Fetterman and 
know that he would like to talk with me." 

I went to his cabin and was much surprised to find 
that the supposed Indian was Jules Seminole, a half- 
breed Sioux, but a renegade, and I knew that he was 
worse than any full-blood. He asked Crawford to 
step out of the room, as he wished to tell me some- 
thing. 

The reader will recall the shooting of my partner, 
old Mack, the wood-chopper, near Fetterman. Sem- 
inole told me that he was a brother-in-law of a man 
named Sneed Stagner, who was a squaw-man and 
took sub-contracts for cordwood for Fort Fetterman. 
Stagner owed old Mack three hundred dollars for 
chopping wood, and to cancel his debt, he gave Sem- 
inole one hundred dollars to kill old Mack. He also 



HARD KNOCKS Page 194 

said it was he and another Indian I saw running over 
the point of the ridge and that I was lucky the other 
three Indians who were with him did not get my 
scalp. I was dumbfounded with his story. I thought 
the matter over and decided to wait and see if Sem- 
inole recovered. If so, I would then place him under 
arrest and take him to Cheyenne, where he would re- 
ceive proper punishment. 

My decision showed poor judgment, however, for 
two weeks later Seminole suddenly disappeared, tak- 
ing with him Crawford's horse. I regretted then that 
I had not given him his just deserts. I learned later 
that he was hanged in South Dakota for murdering 
a sheep herder, and I hope the report is true. Years 
after this Crawford had shows out on the road, him- 
self being leading man. Of course, his plays were of 
the Indian character, and I understand that he has 
made a great deal of money. 

One day there arrived in Custer three four-horse 
teams, the wagons containing a large saloon outfit 
and fourteen dance-hall girls. They had come from 
Cheyenne and were brought in there by a man named 
Al Swarringer. Accompanying them were eight men 
who were gamblers. Their arrival created quite a 
commotion as we now knew we were going to have 
some amusement. Swarringer immediately con- 
structed a large log building, flooring it, and in the 
rear erected fourteen stalls, or rooms, where the girls 
slept. At the back of the building was a shed in 
which they cooked and ate. This new enterprise took 
the town by storm and Swarringer made a great deal 
of money there. Among these girls was one named 
Georgia Dow, whom I had known in Hayes City, Kan- 
sas. Georgia was the queen of the dance-hall girls 
in Custer, she having been a long time in the busi- 
ness. She remained in that country until the fall of 
1876, following her occupation, when she went to 



Page 195 HARDKNOCKS 

Sydney, Nebraska, partially reforming, and I have 
been told she died at the age of 60. This is very re- 
markable, as that class of girls dissipated awfully and 
were frightfully abused by their lovers, who took 
from them all they could earn and frequently pun- 
ished them severely when they did not earn enough. 
Georgia was a very kind-hearted girl and when any- 
one was sick or injured, she was the first to offer her 
assistance. 

One afternoon there walked into my saloon my 
friend Botsford, of whom I have previously spoken. 
He quietly informed me that he had discovered rich 
diggings on a stream he had named Deadwood, which 
was seventy-five miles northwest from Custer. The 
name Deadwood was derived from the large amount 
of dead timber found along the stream. He exhibited 
two well-filled pokes or sacks of gold, and remarked 
that he had staked out a claim for me and that he had 
come in for supplies, intending to return in a few days. 
Botsford asked me not to mention this fact until he 
had gone, as it would cause a stampede, but to go 
there as soon as I could settle my affairs in Custer; 
adding, that if a stampede occurred, he would be un- 
able to hold the claim for me unless I were present. 
In three days he left. On the fifth day the news in 
some way had leaked out about the discovery, but 
through what source I am unable to say. I do know, 
however, that I had not mentioned it to anyone — and 
such a stampede was never witnessed again in that 
country. The town was practically deserted in twenty- 
four hours. 

My partner also got the fever, and without telling 
me, went to the corral and borrowed my horse, saddle 
and bridle. This left me a building and saloon fix- 
tures on hand, but no customers. In about ten days 
I concluded to migrate to the new diggings, and, nail- 
ing up the doors and windows of the saloon, departed. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 196 

Arriving at Deadwood in due time, I found my claim 
was jumped. On going to Botsford and telling him 
of the fact, he said, "Don't worry. I have another 
one staked out for you on Whitewood." Whitewood 
was a branch of Deadwood. I worked this claim with 
four other men, but could not find the pay streak, and 
when my ready cash was gone, I abandoned it. Others 
took possession of it, but never found anything of 
value and it was known as a blank. 

It being very difficult and expensive to get a loca- 
tion in the town of Deadwood, which was building up 
very rapidly, no one paid much attention to the loca- 
tion of his house. The gulch was very deep and nar- 
row, and on the north side was a very high ridge con- 
sisting of great rocks, which made it impossible to 
build against the side hill. I finally concluded I would 
go to work. A man named Bill Nuttle had partly 
completed a large, hewed log building, and having ex- 
pended all his money in doing so, was compelled to dis- 
pose of the building as it stooda Carl Mann and Jerry 
Lewis purchased it and completed it. Mann was a 
saloon man and Lewis a gambler, — one from Montana 
and the other from Nebraska. 

These men named this saloon "Sixty-six." They 
employed me to attend to the bar. After opening 
they sent a wagon, drawn by a four-horse team, to 
Custer City to bring in my liquors that I had left 
there, intending to pay me for them. On arriving 
there they found the saloon broken open and every- 
thing of value gone. The "Sixty-six" saloon was one 
of the largest in that country at this time. We had 
in operation two faro games, a chuckaluck game and 
a twenty-one game. Poker and other short card 
games were also played. The town was booming, 
great numbers of people coming in each day from the 
north and the south. The diggings were shallow and 
rich, and a great deal of gold dust was taken out in a 



Page 197 H A R D K N O C K S 

short time. One of the most successful miners was 
a man named Jack McAller, commonly called Black 
Jack on account of his dark complexion and hair. This 
fellow was looked upon as king of the town, but of 
course, there were many lesser lights who were all 
great money spenders, as pioneers of this sort usually 
are. Swarringer had moved his dance-hall girls from 
Custer, using a building opposite the saloon as a dance 
hall. 

The circulating medium of the town was gold dust. 
If a greenback showed up, it was immediately put out 
of circulation, as it was much easier to remit for sup- 
plies than gold dust. Every saloon and business house 
had gold scales for weighing the dust, and I became 
very expert at this business and had the reputation 
at that time of being the quickest gold dust weigher 
in Deadwood. In handling gold dust, and before 
weighing it, we emptied it from the poke or sack into 
a tin receptacle, the shape of a fire shovel minus the 
handle, called a blower. We then ran through it a 
steel magnet to learn if it were pure, as clean gold 
was worth more per ounce than gold carrying iron or 
other substances. If one wanted to take from it, say 
fifty cents' worth, he pinched it between his thumb 
and index finger, and with practice it was astonishing 
how close to the amount desired could be pinched. 
This was why I was called a fast weigher. It seemed 
to come naturally to me and often miners would wager 
money on my ability to pinch the amount designated. 
Later on I purchased a square piece of Brussels car- 
pet upon which I set the gold scales. This carpet 
extended out from the scales about six inches on each 
side, and in going from the receptacle to the scales, 
by moving one's finger and thumb a little, one would 
drop into this carpet quite a few particles of gold dust, 
and it was very common to me, when going off watch, 
to shake out eight or ten dollars' worth. This was 



HARD KNOCKS Page 198 

termed "side money," and was universally practiced in 
that town. 

Our strongest competitors there were John Mann 
and John Manning. They owned the "Montana Sa- 
loon," same deriving its name from their native state. 
Another strong competitor was Jim Pencil, who was 
also from Montana. There were a few other smaller 
competitors. There were also some great characters 
in this town, who mostly had nicknames. First, 
"Johnny the Oyster," "Club Foot Frank," "Cheating 
Sheely," "Laughing Sam," "Pink Bedford," "Cliff 
Sane," "Frank Connelly," "Bloody Dick," and many 
others too numerous to mention. 

In the late spring of 1876, I had occasion to make 
a trip by stage from Deadwood to Custer City. My 
companions consisted of a dance-hall girl, a Jew and 
four other men, one of whom everybody called "Te- 
legraphy," he having constructed the telegraph line 
from Fort Laramie to Deadwood. The stage left 
Deadwood at ten o'clock P. M. About midnight we 
were dozing while the stage was slowly ascending a 
hill, the night not being very dark. 

Presently the stage came to a sudden stop, awaken- 
ing the occupants, when a loud voice commanded: 
"Hands up!" a shotgun pointing in one door and two 
six-shooters in the other. This same voice, accom- 
panied by a great deal of profanity, ordered us to get 
out with our hands up and stand in line. This we 
did in a remarkably short space of time. It is sur- 
prising how quickly one can move and how long one 
can keep his hands up. The dance-hall girl became 
hysterical and screeched. They paid no attention to 
her. My position was in the middle of the line with 
a road agent standing at each end and one standing 
at the horses' heads, with his gun pointed at the 
driver. The fourth one, with his six-shooter in his 
left hand, performed the gentlemanly act of collecting 



Page 199 HARDKNOCKS 

our toll. This man, having no disguise, I readily rec- 
ognized him as an old teamster friend. We had driven 
a team together for about two years. His name wa,s 
Jim Wall. My first thought was, "will he rob me?" 
I had on my person five hundred dollars in greenbacks, 
and at that particular time the loss of it would have 
caused me considerable embarrassment. The Jew 
begged piteously, asserting that he was dead broke, 
and if they would not kill him, when he arrived in 
Cheyenne he would send them five hundred dollars to 
any place they might designate. 

Wall laughed at the Jew and leisurely started feel- 
ing around his waist, and found a money belt (which 
the Jew afterward claimed contained fifteen hundred 
dollars). The Jew then collapsed, falling on the 
ground as dead. Wall then went through his pockets, 
relieving them of what small change they contained. 
The next in line was Telegraphy. Wall, knowing him 
and also knowing that Telegraphy was a hard whisky 
drinker, remarked: "Telegraphy, you are not making 
this trip without a bottle of whisky." 

Telegraphy, in a clear voice, replied: "There is a 
bottle under the cushion of the rear seat." 

Wall ordered one of his men to get it, while he 
himself went through Telegraphy's clothes as he had 
done with the Jew's. Wall's confederate, handing him 
the bottle, the former placed it at Telegraph's mouth 
and said: "Sample it, I fear it may be doped." 

Telegraphy, realizing that it would be his last 
drink for some hours, grabbed the bottle with the in- 
tention of taking a large drink. Snatching the bottle 
from his hand. Wall said: "Hands up, we will take 
a chance at this." I assure the reader by this time it 
was becoming very amusing to me, but still I could 
not forget the thought — was I to lose my money! 
Wall looked at me for a moment and playfully tapping 



HARD KNOCKS Page 200 

me under the chin with his six-shooter, remarked in 
a low tone, "I see, old pal, you are also caught in the 
net!" But he did not molest me. Passing on to the 
last two men, he quickly relieved them of their cash 
and valuables. He did not rob the girl. They then 
took the Wells-Fargo strong box, which seemed to be 
very heavy, and ordered us back into the stage, tell- 
ing the driver to drive on and not look back for thirty 
minutes, bidding us "good night." 

We then started. It was some time before the Jew 
could talk and the first thing he did was to feel in his 
boot legs, where was concealed five hundred dollars, 
which Wall had overlooked. 

In a short time my troubles began. The four men 
openly charged me with standing in with the road 
agents, which was a natural supposition, as Wall had 
not robbed me. The Jew was the most pronounced in 
his remarks and I was forced to stop his talk. I then 
explained to the other men my previous acquaintance 
with Wall. Telegraphy believed me, and soon con- 
vinced the others. My destination being only to Cus- 
ter City, on my getting out of the stage the Jew again 
became furious, saying that I was going back to meet 
the road agents and get my share of the spoils. I 
believe today, if he is alive, he is still of the same 
opinion. 

Many times I have heard men discussing what they 
would do in case of being held up, but I can assure 
you, dear reader, that they would do exactly as we 
did by obeying the commands of the road agents. 

Jim Wall was capured by the Pinkertons' agents 
two years after I left that country and was sentenced 
to Leavenworth Military Prison, having been tried on 
the charge of robbing the United States mail. His 
sentence was twenty-two years, and I understand he 
died three years after his incarceration. 




Monument of the Rev. Smith, the pioneer minister of Deadwood. S. D.. 
erected by the citizens 



Page 201 HARDKNOCKS 



CHAPTER XXII. 

SIOUX INDIANS STEALING THE MONTANA HERD- 
SCALPING AN INDIAN— CALAMITY JANE— A ROAD 
AGENT— THE CUSTER MASSACRE. 

THERE were a great many saddle horses in 
that country and feed being very high, it 
made it very expensive to keep them in town. 
Four young men conceived the idea of so- 
liciting the owners of these saddle horses and 
agreeing for a certain sum of money per month, to 
herd them on the open plains near Crook City. They 
secured about two hundred of them and formed what 
was called the Montana herd. One Sunday a man 
came into Deadwood and in a very excited state told 
us that a large band of Sioux had run off the Mon- 
tana herd, kilhng the four herders, the Indians having 
slipped up on them at daybreak. 

This occurrence left very few horses in Deadwood. 
Those there were used principally for teaming pur- 
poses. However, we hurriedly formed a party, con- 
sisting of Carl Mann, Tom Dozier, Seith Bullock, Ed 
Milligan, Pat Kelly, John Varnes, Charley Storms, and 
a man named Brown, who had high aspirations to be 
appointed our first sheriff. These men, together with 
about twenty others, including myself, started on the 
Indian chase, who had gone to the north. Our horses 
were not very good saddle horses, as we had taken 
them out of the teams and livery stable. This placed 
us at a disadvantage. We followed the Indians for 
two days, not catching up with them. Our horses 
became jaded and we decided to return. Tom Dozier 
and I were riding side by side, considerably ahead of 
the balance, when I saw what appeared to be a large 
wolf, in the bottom of a dry creek. I called Tom's 



HARD KNOCKS Page 202 

attention to it, remarking that if it were not for the 
noise made by our guns, it would be a fine shot. The 
words were hardly out of my mouth when the sup- 
posed wolf (but in reality an Indian, who had been on 
all fours digging with his hands in the creek bottom 
for water) rose up and started for some tall, dense 
plum bushes bordering the creek. We instantly gave 
chase and surrounded the spot where we knew he was 
concealed under a tree, the roots of which projected 
over the bank. We fired a great many shots but it 
was impossible to tell with what effect, as it was nec- 
essary to crawl through the plum bushes to get a view 
of our quarry. 

After some consultation, ambitious Brown sug- 
gested that three of us go in, he taking the lead, 
Dozier and I following in single file. We had not pro- 
ceeded far when the Indian shot, killing Brown. Dozier 
and I returned the fire, retreating at the same time to 
the clear. All was quiet then and we could not tell 
whether or not our shots had taken effect. One of 
our party then volunteered to make a circuit, and 
come around the back of the tree by crawling on his 
hands and knees. He had not been gone long when 
we heard another shot, and on looking over, found 
that he had been killed too. Some suggested that we 
simultaneously rush the Indian's hiding place, while 
others objected; and, as it was now getting dark, we 
decided to surround the spot, wait for morning and 
then fire the plum bushes and tall prairie grass, and 
burn him out. Morning came. One of the party 
crawling on his hands and knees to where Brown's 
body lay, found that he had been scalped. Then go- 
ing to the other body, found that he, too, had been 
scalped and that the Indian had made his escape dur- 
ing the night. How that wily Indian could have so 
easily outwitted us, was a mystery to all. We secured 



Page 203 HARDKNOCKS 

the two bodies and returned to Deadwood, a tired and 
disgusted lot. 

In the latter part of August a report was circu- 
lated that a great strike had been made at the base of 
what was called Sun Dance Mountain, situated about a 
hundred miles northwest of Deadwood. Myself and 
four others taking our saddle horses and a pack mule, 
started on the stampede. Those with me were Pat 
Kelly, Ed Milligan, Tom Dozier and Johnnie Varnes. 
We made Kelly captain. When going on dangerous 
trips we always selected some one of the party to act 
as captain, whose orders were obeyed to the letter. 
Kelly was a fighting Irishman and was not afraid of 
God, man or devil. The first night out an Indian 
could have killed us all with a butcher knife, as, having 
imbibed pretty freely during the day, we were in 
such condition that we slept like logs all night. 

Three days after we left Deadwood, Milligan and 
myself were riding in advance about one-half mile. 
In looking down on the ground, I saw fresh pony 
tracks. We were about to ascend a hill at the time. 
I said, "Ed, those ponies have not passed here an 
hour. I can tell by the tracks, and if you will hold 
my horse, I will crawl up to the top of this ridge or 
hill and see what I can discover." 

He did so. I looked over and there were about 
twenty-five Indians in the act of dismounting. They 
had with them some fifty head of good looking horses. 
I presumed they had stolen them. We started back 
and met the balance of the boys and reported to them 
what I had seen. Kelly, selecting a spot not far dis- 
tant, where we went into camp; unpacked our mule, 
which had been packed with the outfit, and with our 
shovels dug a hole large enough to hold four of us, 
and a smaller one big enough for one man, he to hold 
the horses by their lariats, for we knew that we were 
to have a fight on our hands. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 204 

We did not get ready any too soon, for they came 
on the run, yelling as only Indians can yell. "Now," 
said Kelly, "don't fire a shot until I tell you." 

We lay in our little fort with dirt thrown up as 
breastworks. The Indians rode to within a hundred 
or a hundred and fifty yards of us, then whirled and 
fired; Kelly still warning us not to shoot until or- 
dered. A great trick of the Sioux is to get the whites 
to shoot their ammunition away and then he has them 
at his mercy. We had each forty rounds of ammuni- 
tion and the only thing about our position was that 
we had no water. Otherwise, we had no fear of 
standing them off. After shooting at us they would 
again go back some distance and come again as be- 
fore. They made a good many such charges. Fin- 
ally two of their party, one a young fellow not more 
than twelve years old, I should judge, began to come 
a Uttle nearer, shooting pretty close to us. The little 
fellow did not have a gun, but was using his bow and 
arrows. I said: "Kelly, I have always wanted to kill 
an Indian, and I wish you would let me have a shot 
at one of those fellows." 

Kelly replied: "You take the big fellow and I 
will take the little one, if they come again." 

I was delighted. They came again still closer than 
before. Kelly gave the word and we both fired, I 
hitting my man just under the ear and Kelly hitting 
his in the body. My man fell to the ground as dead 
as an oyster. Kelly's boy toppled over, but caught 
his pony's mane, holding himself on and disappeared 
behind a small hill, the others following. They seemed 
to have had enough of it. 

We waited fully two hours and did not see any 
more of them. I then said to Kelly: "Kelly, I ran 
away from home when I was fourteen years of age 
with the intention of being a great Indian killer, and 



Page 205 HARDKNOCKS 

in all these years this is my first Indian, and I would 
like very much to take his scalp. Kelly agreed to my 
doing so. 

We then all saddled up, riding up to the dead In- 
dian, Kelly and I dismounting; I holding the scalp 
lock while Kelly cut it off. We did not make as fine 
a job of it as an Indian would have done, but I was 
satisfied. I had a scalp. Kelly took his war bonnet, 
Milligan his breech-clout, Varnes his moccasins and 
Dozier his gun. We then started for Deadwood. We 
had had enough of the stampeding business to last a 
while. We shared in the venture and trophies of war, 
but arrived in Deadwood with no gold. 

I will now give you the balance of the history of 
that great female character. Calamity Jane. 

Jane and I had not met since the return of the 
Jenny expedition to Fort Laramie, until one night 
when I was sitting in Jim Pencil's saloon playing faro 
bank someone tapped me on the shoulder. Looking 
around, I saw whom I supposed to be a young man 
dressed in buckskin, with a broad brimmed hat and 
two six-shooters. Turning again to the table I re- 
sumed my playing, when I was touched on the shoul- 
der again. I then turned again and asked, "What do 
you want?" 

The reply was, "Hello, Young, you know d — well 
you tried to drown me in Spring Creek." 

It was Calamity Jane. She was alluding to the 
Jenny expedition episode, when I had upset the wagon 
with her in it. Her language was very profane and 
her love for whisky equalled that of any hard drinker. 
I asked her how she was fixed financially. She an- 
swered, "Dead broke." I gave her a five-dollar green- 
back, when she immediately proceeded to celebrate, 
and in a short time she was in a wild state of intoxica- 
tion. She was then dubbed a good fellow and admitted 
as a member of the pioneer characters of Deadwood. 



HARD KNOCKS Page 206 

p. Her habits were thoroughly masculine. She danced with 

>' the dance-halls girls, as the balance of us did, asso- 

j; ciated with the men and showed no fe ma k traits 

, whatever. 

Swarringer, who kept the dance hall, was sorely 
in need of some new girls and employed Calamity to 
white slave for him. Fitting her out with a team, 
wagon and cooking utensils, he sent her to Nebraska 
to get a new supply of girls. At this business she was 
a huge success, the result of her first trip being ten 
girls. She had captivated them with exaggerated 
stories of the immense wealth in the Black Hills and 
the large amount of money to be made. She turned 
them over to Swarringer, retaining charge of them 
herself, educating and instructing them, and was in 
reality their friend as far as imposition was concerned. 
On one of her white slave trips she was stopped by 
the noted road agent, Jim Wall, and his confederates. 
She became enamored with one of the gang named 
Blackburn, who prevailed upon her to go with them. 
On her return to Deadwood she turned the team over 
to Swarringer and disappeared. A year later three of 
the gang were captured, and with them Calamity Jane. 
They were taken to Laramie City for trial, in the 
meantime being confined in a log jail, from which they 
made an attempt to escape by digging their way out 
under the jail, but were quickly recaptured while yet 
in the town. Her companions received long sentences, 
but for some unexplained reason, Calamity was not 
prosecuted. She lived for many years in various towns 
and mining camps in that country, following various 
occupations. She finally drifted back to Deadwood, 
entirely broken in body and spirits, and after a linger- 
ing illness of two years, during which all of her ex- 
penses were defrayed by the big-hearted town people, 
she passed away on August 2, 1906. On the same 
day and month, and the same hour, Wild Bill was 



rage 207 H A R D K N O C K S 

assassinated thirty years before. Her dying request 
was that she be buried by the side of Wild Bill, which 
was granted. And she now reposes by the side of him 
whom she had for years greatly admired. May the 
Supreme Ruler of the Universe forgive their faults, 
for they had many virtues. 

I will now give the reader a little inside history of 
the massacre of that great man, General Custer, and 
his regiment. 

The news of this massacre was brought into Dead- 
wood by courier, where I happened to be at the time. 
From there it was telegraphed all over the world. 
Much has been written regarding this massacre, but 
it is all surmise, as no one escaped except one Crow 
Indian scout, and his account of the massacre was so 
muddled as to prove of no importance whatever; ad- 
mitting himself that he was in the rocks when the 
massacre occurred and that he did not see it at all. 
The Sioux who did take part in it, on being ques- 
tioned, gave very conflicting accounts of it, and be- 
ing such infernal liars, drew on their imagination to 
a large extent, so that no satisfaction was to be had 
from them. 

Personally, I was very sorry to learn of the trouble 
between General Custer and the powers at Washing- 
ton, for the General was a very fine soldier, both dur- 
ing the Civil and Indian wars, and I felt that in recog- 
nition of his past services, his faults should have been 
overlooked to a large extent; but such appears not 
to have been the case. 

In the late sixties there was a scandal in the fron- 
tier post known as the Belknap whisky case. Custer 
was among the officers summoned to Washington to 
give testimony regarding the scandal, and in a frank, 
straightforward manner, told the truth. This met 
with disfavor among certain high officials. Later on 
Fred Grant graduated from West Point, and, owing 



HARD KNOCKS Page 208 

to the prominence of his father, was promoted from 
a second lieutenant to a lieutenant-colonel, being ap- 
pointed on General Sheridan's staff. Custer expressed 
himself very freely on this rapid promotion, which 
placed him doubly wrong in the minds of the powers 
at Washington. Then it was decided that Custer must 
be humiliated. 

The opportunity presented itself to carry out Gen- 
eral Custer's humiliation during the Sioux war in 
1876. General Miles was in command, and on two 
different occasions, Custer disobeyed orders. For 
these offenses he was to be court-martialed, and none 
knew this better than Custer himself; but he, being 
far in advance of the main command, it was difficult 
to get word to him to report at headquarters. Before 
he could be reached, his Crow Indian scouts reported 
a large band of Sioux on the Little Rose Bud River. 
Here Custer thought he saw his opportunity to win a 
big battle, one that would make him so popular and 
his standing such, as to recall the court martialling. 
He hurriedly consulted General Reno and formed a 
plan of attack. Reno with his command was to at- 
tack from the south, and Custer from the north, sim- 
ultaneously. Shortly after separating, a large body 
of Sioux intercepted Reno, who, instead of showing 
fight, went into camp; but Custer, hearing the shoot- 
ing, hurried on to fulfill his part, not knowing that 
Reno had gone into camp. After the Indians had 
stopped Reno, they immediately joined the main band, 
Custer made the charge, and not getting the assis- 
tance he expected from Reno, was annihilated with his 
brave followers, the seventh cavalry. Had Reno not 
shown the white feather but fought his way through, 
Custer and many of his command might have been 
alive today. Reno, having great influence at Wash- 
ington, was not court-martialled for his cowardice, but 
was requested to resign, which he did. 



Page 209 HARDKNOCKS 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE FIRST SERMON IN DEADWOOD— FATE OF THE 
PREACHER— HE LOST BOTH HAIR AND GOLD DUST 
—WILD AND WOOLLY TIMES— THE INDIAN'S HEAD 
ON THE TOWN FLAGSTAFF— THE STORMS-VARNES 
DUEL— DEATH OF WILD BILL. 

ONE Sunday there came walking into Dead- 
wood an old man wearing a black slouched 
hat, a long, black coat, and holding in one 
hand a Bible. The old fellow was a preacher, 
of what denomination, I cannot state. No 
one there seemed to know where he came from. It 
being the Lord's Day, many miners had come into 
town to spend their gold dust. The preacher, think- 
ing he might save a few souls, stopped in front of 
Jim Pencil's saloon, and standing on an empty box, 
began to preach. A large crowd gathered around the 
old fellow, listening to him very reverently. In the 
crowd were four or five dance-hall girls. This being 
the first preaching we had heard, it interested us very 
much. The old fellow held his hat in his left hand 
and his Bible in his right. He had not been preaching 
very long, when Calamity Jane, dressed in her buck- 
skin attire and in an intoxicated condition, snatched 
his old hat from his hand, and turning to the crowd, 
addressed them thus: 

"You sinners, dig down in your pokes, now; this 
old fellow looks as though he were broke and I want 
to collect about two hundred dollars for him. So lim- 
ber up, boys." 

She then started through the crowd and collected 
two hundred and thirty-five dollars in gold dust.. 

While collecting, the old man was still preaching. 
Calamity attempted to interrupt him by presenting 



HARD KNOCKS Page 210 

him with his hat and gold dust. He motioned her 
aside. This offended her, and looking at him for a 
moment, she said: 

"You d — old fool, take the money first and then 
proceed with your preaching." 

I believe this shortened his sermon some, for he 
soon announced that he was going down to Crook City 
at the foothills, ten miles below Deadwood. Jack 
McAller, or Black Jack, told him that there were two 
routes to get there, one down the canyon and one by 
ascending the hill, then down the open plain; also 
told him that the Indians were bad and advised him 
to take the canyon route. The old man thanked him, 
and looking heavenward, said: "I trust in God, I 
know He will protect me." 

Black Jack replied, "God is all right, but take my 
advice, parson," and offered a six-shooter to the old 
fellow, which the latter refused to touch. The parson 
then informed us he was going the hill route. Tying 
the gold dust in an old bandana handkerchief, he 
started up the hillside. When near the top, we saw 
him stop, and turning around facing us, he extended 
both hands in the air as though he were blessing us, 
then disappeared over the hill. 

In about three hours two men arrived in town 
very much excited, stating that they had found the 
body of an old man killed and scalped, with a gun shot 
in his back and an arrow piercing his neck. We knew 
at once it was the parson. Going out there, we found 
the body minus the gold dust. We brought him in, and 
buried him on a flat in the rear of the Montana sa- 
loon. Later we learned that he was the Revemed 
Hiram Weston Smith. He was the first man to plant 
the seed of Christianity in the Black Hills. I under- 
stand that there are now five churches in Deadwood. 
The citizens of Deadwood eight years later moved the 



Page 211 HARDKNOCKS 

body to a new cemetery and erected a monument to 
his memory, with the inscription: "Here lines the 
Reverend Hiram Weston Smith, killed by Indians, 
August 22, 1876, — the Pioneer Preacher of the Black 
Hills." 

The Sioux Indians were very troublesome to the 
residents of Deadwood. Coming from the plains, they 
would secret themselves behind rocks on the ridge top 
and shoot into town. The citizens finally offered a 
reward of five hundred dollars for the first Indian 
scalp brought into Deadwood. Two Mexicans, wend- 
ing their way by the hill route to Deadwood, having 
started from Crook City, killed an Indian, who was 
about twenty-five years of age, I should judge. In- 
stead of scalping him, they cut his head off, carrying 
it by the scalp lock and walked into town. A great 
crowd followed them into the saloon where I worked. 

I had my back to the entrance of the saloon, and 
upon hearing the commotion I suddenly turned around, 
and on the bar sat the Indian head, the Mexican hold- 
ing it there with his hands. The face was painted, 
the upper side with little black dots, and the 
lower portion red. In his ears he wore ear rings, and 
he had been quite hansome for an Indian. The Mexi- 
can asked me where he was to receive the reward. 
Just then Black Jack stepped up, telling him that he 
would pay the money, which he did, suggesting that 
we have a celebration, and to which the crowd agreed. 

We then started on a visit to all the saloons. Jack 
and Calamity Jane led the way. Jack carrying the 
head and Calamity doing the yelling, haranguing the 
crowd. Our tour included all the dance halls and 
business houses, and we kept this performance up all 
night. All having imbibed freely, when morning came 
Calamity suggested that we hoist the head up on the 
flagstaff, which had previously been erected. We 



HARD KNOCKS Page 212 

started our procession to the upper end of town, and 
there never had been and never will be such a scene 
enacted on earth again. When we arrived at the des- 
ignated spot, they attached the flag halyard to the 
scalp lock and with a whoop. Calamity and Jack 
hoisted it up. We then formed a great circle around 
the flagstaff and no body of Sioux Indians ever equaled 
that war dance. This lasted for a solid hour, when 
they lowered it down and buried it. This ended the 
grand celebration of the Indian's head. 

The following morning a man notified us that he 
had found the bodies of the two Mexicans who had 
killed and brought this Indian head into town. They 
were lying close together, each with a six-shooter in 
his right hand, with an empty chamber in each gun. 
We concluded that they had quarreled over the distri- 
bution of the five hundred dollars and had shot at 
one another about the same time, kilhng each other. 
We buried them alongside the Indian head. This was 
a remarkable coincident. 

Two gamblers named Charley Storms and Johnnie 
Varnes, while playing cards, had a misunderstanding. 
Both being brave men, they agreed to go out on the 
street and fight a duel with six-shooters. Varnes car- 
ried the first double-acting gun I ever saw, called a 
Whistler. It was of English make. It was quite short 
and shot a very large calibre ball. Storms carried a 
Colts forty-five. 

Standing in Hne, Varnes' position being near the 
running gear of a wagon, rested this gun on the top 
of the wagon wheel, shooting at Storms very rapidly, 
Storms shooting but two shots at Varnes, both strik- 
ing the wagon tire below Varnes' head, bounding over 
it. This saved Varnes. One of Varnes' shots struck 
a German in the hip. The German was standing about 
twenty steps out of line, but Varnes' gun being so 



Page 213 HARDKNOCKS 

short and of such heavy calibre, shot anywhere rather 
than where he pointed it. When Varnes' gun was 
emptied he threw up his hands, telhng Storms so. 

The latter replied, "Go get a better gun. You can- 
not hit a barn door with that one." 

In the meantime friends interferred, stopping the 
duel, and they afterward became great friends. Poor 
Storms was killed years later in Tombstone, Arizona, 
by Luke Short, a faro dealer. Varnes died in Den- 
ver, Colorado, an opium fiend, and thus ended two 
brave men. 

About the middle of June there arrived in Dead- 
wood my old frend, "Wild Bill." Accompanying him 
was Charley Utter, commonly known as Colorado 
Charley. They were mounted and a more picturesque 
sight could not be imagined than Wild Bill on horse- 
back. This character had never been north of Chey- 
enne before this, for he originated in the south, as 
previously stated. Many in Deadwood knew him, hav- 
ing met him before; others knew him only by reputa- 
tionfi particularly those who came from Montana. 

Among these Montana people were a good many 
men of note. I mean by that, gun men, and the ar- 
rival of this character in town caused quite a com- 
motion. They rode up to the saloon where I was 
working, both of them having known Carl Mann be- 
fore; he being a great friend of Bills', they naturally 
called on him first. They dismounted and walked into 
the saloon, great crowds following them until the 
room was packed. Mann cordially received them, ask- 
ing them to make this saloon their headquarters, 
which they agreed to do. This meant money to Mann, 
as Bill would be a great drawing card. 

After the excitement of Bill's arrival had sub- 
sided a little, Bill looked at me a few moments, then 



HARD KNOCKS Page 214 

said: "Kid, here you are again, like the bad penny, 
but I am awfully glad to see you." And turning to 
Carl Mann, remarked: "I first met this kid in Hayes 
City, Kansas, and wherever I go, he seems to precede 
me or to follow me, for I have met him in Abeline, Ells- 
worth, Cheyenne, and now again here; but he is a 
good boy and you can trust him. Take my word for 
that." 

Bill's occupation at this time was that of a gam- 
bler. Since I had last seen him, he seemed to have 
changed greatly and tried very hard to avoid notori- 
ety, conducting himself in a very gentlemanly man- 
ner, but unfortunately his past reputation was still a 
matter of public comment. Consequently, he was sub- 
ected to a great deal of criticism, pro and con. At 
this time there were many gun fighters in Deadwood, 
the majority of which hailed from Montana. Knowing 
Bill only by reputation, they misjudged him to a 
marked degree. To have the reader more clearly un- 
derstand their relative positions to each other, I will 
say that Bill had attained much the same reputation 
as a prize fighter who had successfully sent all of his 
opponents down to defeat and become the acknowl- 
edged champion. Professional gun fighters in those 
days aspired to kill any one of their number who had 
the record of being their superior, and by thus doing, 
claimed the so-called championship. 

One night in June a party of six Montana men 
congregated in the Montana saloon and engaged in a 
general spirited talk of criticism, the target of their 
remarks being Bill. A friend of his happened to be 
in the saloon and lost no time in going to the Sixty- 
six saloon where he found Bill, and told him what he 
had heard. In supreme disgust, Bill went immediately 
to the Montana saloon and walking up to the crowd, 
remarked : 



Page 215 HARDKNOCKS 

"I understand that you cheap, would-be gun fight- 
ers from Montana have been making remarks about 
me, and I want you all to understand that unless they 
are stopped there will shortly be a number of cheap 
funerals in Deadwood. I have come to this town not 
to court notoriety or villianous talk, but to live in 
peace, and no not propose to stand for your insults." 

Having thus declared himself. Bill ordered the en- 
tire six to line up against the wall and deliver up their 
guns, which they quickly did in a very sheepish man- 
ner. Bill had accomphshed his purpose without the 
flash of a gun on his part. Backing out of the saloon, 
he leisurely walked down the street to the Sixty-six 
saloon and resumed his seat at the card table. This 
act, of course, became the talk of the town. 

Seeing much of Bill every day and being a very 
close observer, I became familiar with many of his 
characteristics, some of which are worthy of special 
mention. 

In drinking at a bar. Bill invariably poured out 
the whisky with his left hand, his right being free 
for possible emergency. He was careful to face all 
with whom he was drinking, and under no circum- 
stances would he chance any one being behind him. 
In a card game he always sat with his back to the 
wall. I have often thought of the constant uneasiness 
that he must have felt at all times. 

There was also the comic side to Bill's nature, 
which asserted itself in his jovial moods, and his 
stories at such times made up by himself, for he was 
a great story teller, were highly entertaining. I will 
narrate two of them as related to us. On this oc- 
casion Bill had been asked for a story by a crowd who 
knew him by reputation only and appreciated the 
fact that his stories would be a rare treat. Bill re- 
sponded as follows: 



HARD KNOCKS Page 216 

"Some years ago in the Indian territory I was 
scouting for General Custer, and getting up into south- 
western Kansas, which was a new country to me at 
that time, I was riding quite a distance ahead of the 
command, when I saw an opening about two feet wide 
which seemed to run into a bluff. I thought I would 
explore this. On closer examination I found this pas- 
sageway about ten feet long. Passing through it I 
discovered that it led to a large, open space of con- 
siderable area and was surrounded on all sides by a 
wall. I remarked to myself, what a great protection 
from Indians this would be if one were hard pressed, — 
the entrance being so narrow, one could secrete him- 
self on the inside and kill any number of them, as 
they could only enter one at a time. I was armed with 
a six-shooter and also a large knife. The thought had 
hardly passed through my brain, when in looking at 
the entrance I saw an Indian approaching. Knowing 
he was hostile, I shot him. Another came; I also 
shot him. They kept coming one by one until I had 
discharged the six shots that my gun contained. In 
those days we used the powder and ball six-shooters, 
with caps on the nipples. Not having any extra am- 
munition with me, I was unable to reload. More In- 
dians kept coming. I then drew my knife from my 
belt and backed up against the wall at the farther 
end, while in the meantime the open space became 
crowded with Indians." 

Here, Bill stopped telling the story. One of the 
many listeners, however, asked him what he did then. 
Bill hesitated a moment, then replied: 

"What could I do? There were many of them, 
well armed, and I had only my knife." 

"Well, then," questioned his interrogator, "what 
did they do?" 

Bill gave a long sigh, saying: "By God, they 
killed me, boys!" 



Page 217 HARDKNOCKS 

For a few moments they did not seem to see the 
joke, but soon began laughing. One of them asked 
the crowd up to the bar to drink, Bill whispering to 
me: 

"Kid, that's one time I had to die." 
I replied, "Why didn't you unfold your wings and 
fly?" 

He said the next time he told that story he would 
escape in that manner. 

At another time Bill told the following story: He 
was riding along one day in the mountains in Colorado 
and was about to cross an open space, when he heard 
a loud noise behind him. Looking back, he saw a 
great snake about fifty feet long, with a head re- 
sembling a man's — having the nose, mouth and chin 
of a man, also a pair of legs, which looked very much 
like a man's arms; its breast and stomach both re- 
sembled those of a man also. It was a vicious looking 
reptile. His horse scenting it, became frightened and 
ran away with him. The faster the horse ran, the 
closer this reptile approached, convincing Bill that it 
would soon catch up with him. Turning in his saddle, 
he shot the reptile dead. Quieting his horse, he dis- 
mounted and with his gun in hand ready for immediate 
use, he walked back to examine the reptile, and found 
that it really had a stomach like a human being. He 
could not carry it with him to camp, so cut the head 
off; then opening the stomach, found in there eight 
hundred and seventy-five dollars worth of gold dust. 
This was a gold eating snake. Now he was in a 
quandry, not daring to take the head back with him 
as he might be compelled to give up the gold, so he 
decided to cover it up with earth at a nearby bluff. 
Going to the nearest town, he displayed this gold dust, 
not telling where he had procured it, but the people 
then began prospecting for gold in Colorado and dis- 



HARD KNOCKS Page 218 

covered it in paying quantities. And this gold eating 
snake should have the credit for the discovery. "This 
is the first time I have ever told the secret," added Bill. 

I thought the listeners would explode with 
laughter, which pleased Bill very much. 

Early one morning two days before Bill's assass- 
ination, he walked into the Sixty-six saloon. We were 
alone at the time and I noticed he looked very dejected. 
I remarked, "Bill, you are not looking very well this 
morning." 

"No," he replied. "I have a feeling that something 
is going to happen to me." 

I remarked, "Bill, you are drinking too much." 

"No," he answered, "that has nothing to do with 
it. I have had this feeling for two weeks, but know 
I will never be killed by any one in front of me and if it 
does come, it will be from the back. Now, I want you 
to do something for me. Step out here and walk 
backward until I tell you to stop." I did so until he 
told me to halt. This being a very peculiar request on 
his part, I asked him the reason for it. He told me 
that his eye sight was failing him, and he wanted to 
satisfy himself as to the distance that he could dis- 
tinguish a man. He then said : "Two steps before you 
stopped, I could plainly recognize you, after which I 
could see nothing but a blur. Don't mention this 
circumstance to any one as I do not care to have it 
known." 

To give the reader some idea of the rapidity and 
accuracy with which Bill could shoot — first bear in 
mind that six shooters in his time were not cartridge 
guns nor were they double action. One had to load them 
with powder and ball and place caps on the nipples 
attached to the cylinders, and had to cock the hammer 
each time he shot. 



Page 219 HARDKNOCKS 

In 1868 he was riding from Hays City to Fort 
Hays, in company with General Custer. In passing a 
telegraph pole Bill remarked to Custer, "General, would 
you believe that I could ride past one of these poles 
on the run and shoot six shots into it with my six 
shooter and that you could cover the space where I 
hit it with the palm of your hand?" 

"No," Custer replied, "no man could accomplish 
such a feat." Bill put spurs to his horse, and when 
opposite a pole, shot six shots into it, and sure enough 
on examination, Custer found he had hit it six times, 
and that he could cover the spot with his hand. When 
they arrived at the Fort, Custer had a tin sign made, 
verifying the fact, and had the sign nailed to the pole. 
If the reader should at any time visit Hays, Kansas, 
he will find the pole still there, the citizens of Hays 
having had it cemented in the ground. They keep it 
in preservation as an old time relic of this wonderful 
character. 

On the night of August 1st, 1867, he was playing 
cards with a miner named Jack McCall, who was a 
worthless character and decidedly repulsive, being 
cross-eyed to such an extent that it was hard to tell 
which way he was looking. On the morning of the 
2nd, I came on watch, relieving the night man, and 
found them still playing cards. The night man told 
me they had been playing since midnight and that Mc- 
Call was about broke, at the same time showing me 
McCall's sack of gold dust that lay behind the bar. 
Presently Bill asked me how much dust was in the 
sack. I weighed it and told him one hundred and 
seven dollars worth. 

Bill then remarked to McCall: "You have over- 
played yourself by ten dollars." 

McCall replied, "All right, I will make it good next 
Saturday night." 



HARDKNOCKS Page 220 

This ended the game, McCall saying "I have not 
got money enough to buy my breakfast." Bill handed 
him seventy-five cents in shinplasters, telling him to 
go and eat; also telling him that if he got hungry 
again later in the day, he would help him out. They 
then had a parting drink together, and McCall left the 
saloon. 

About one-thirty in the afternoon, Carl Mann, 
Charley Rich and Captain Massey engaged in a poker 
game. Bill, in company with Charley Utter sauntered 
in and was invited by Mann to make the game four- 
handed. Bill joined them, but before doing so re- 
quested Rich, who was sitting with his back to the 
wall, to give him his seat. Knowing Bill's habits, 
Rich rose to comply, when Captain Massey, from 
whom Bill had won some money a few nights before, 
spoke up and said that he preferred to have Bill sit 
opposite him, remarking: "No one is going to shoot 
you in the back." 

Bill replied, "All right, you old grouch. I will sit 
here," at the same time pulling out the stool with 
his foot, from under the table, sitting down on it. 
Mann sat on Bill's left. Rich on his right and Massey 
opposite. Bill facing the front entrance to the saloon, 
with his back exposed to the rear entrance. They had 
been playing not to exceed twenty minutes, when 
Massey beat a king full for Bill with four sevens, 
breaking Bill on the hand. They were playing table 
stakes. Bill then asked me to bring him fifty dollars 
worth of checks, which I did. Charley Utter, who 
had been sitting by Bill's side a little back of him, 
remarked: "Bill, I will go and get something to eat." 
I placed the checks on the table in front of Bill, stand- 
ing as I did so between him and Carl Mann. Bill 
looked up at me and remarked : "The old duffer (mean- 
ing Massey) broke me on the hand." These were the 
last words he ever uttered. 



Page 221 HARDKNOCKS 

There was a loud report, followed by the words, 
"Take that." McCall had shot him in the back of the 
head with a forty-five Colts six-shooter, the ball 
coming- out under the right cheek bone, and piercing 
the wrist of Captain Massey, who had his hand around 
his checks that he had just won from Bill. 

Massey was the first to run out to the street, 
shouting that Wild Bill had shot him. He did not 
know differently until some time afterward. No one 
being armed at the time, we all rushed out to the 
street, McCall following. The latter tried to make his 
escape on a horse, which was tied to a hitching rack 
in front of the door. The cinch of the saddle having 
been loosened, when he attempted to mount the horse, 
the saddle turned with him. He then ran out into the 
middle of the street. By this time a large crowd had 
gathered, which surrounded him. With six-shooter 
in his hand, McCall pointed first at one and then 
another, but not shooting. Those in the crowd who 
were armed were afraid to shoot at him for fear of 
shooting each other. A man named Tom Mulquinn 
grasped him from behind, pinned his arms while the 
others disarmed him. They then took him back into 
the saloon where the body lay and asked him a few 
questions, which he refused to answer. They finally 
took him to a log cabin in the rear of the saloon. All 
was excitement. Some wanted to hang him, others 
to shoot him, but wiser heads prevailed and an in- 
vestigation was agreed upon. He was kept under 
guard for three days and then given a miner's trial 
in the opera house. Selecting twelve men as a jury, 
a man to prosecute and another to defend him, for 
by this time, on account of Bill's past reputation, the 
citizens split into two factions, one of which sympa- 
thized with McCall and the other faction with Bill. 

After the witnesses had been examined, McCall 
took the stand in his own defense and told in a 



HARD KNOCKS Page 222 

straightforward manner that Bill had killed his 
brother, Sam Strawhan, in Riley's saloon at Hayes 
City, Kansas, in 1868, while he was a soldier at Fort 
Hayes; that he had promised his widowed mother on 
her death bed he would follow Bill as long as he lived 
till he got a chance to kill him, and knowing Bill's 
reputation for quickness with a gun, knew that his 
only chance was to slip up behind him. He admitted 
that he had killed Bill, was glad of it, and would do 
the same thing over again if he had to. The jury 
believed the statement and acquitted him. 

McCall left Deadwood that same night, going to 
Laramie City on the Union Pacific railroad, and there 
boasted of the killing of Wild Bill. A friend of Bill's 
telegraphed to Jeff Carr at Cheyenne, then United 
States Marshal of Wyoming, who arrested McCall. He 
was taken to Yankton, South Dakota, tried before 
the United States Court, convicted and hanged. 

On the scaffold McCall denied the previous state- 
ment that Strawhan was his brother and admitted 
that he had told the story to fool the Deadwood 
miners. He said that he was a deserter from the 7th 
cavalry, but that he was in Hayes City at the time Bill 
killed Strawhan, and that he did not know why he 
killed Bill, as he had never done him any harm. His 
hanging was spectacular. A scaffold was erected on 
the open prairie and thousands of people from miles 
around witnessed the execution. 

Wild Bill's body was buried with his head resting 
near a large pine stump, on which was blazed the 
following inscription: "Here lies the body of Wild 
Bill, murdered by Jack McCall, August the 2nd, 1876." 
Underneath this the words: "Custer was lonesome 
without you." 

The funeral was a very large one, and very im- 
pressive; all the stores, saloons and dance-halls being 



Page 223 HARDKNOCKS 

closed out of respect to the greatest character of his 
day. 

Eight years later the citizens of Deadwood moved 
all the bodies of the dead to a new cemetery. On 
exhuming Bill's body, his entire left side was found to 
be petrified. Bill's body and that of Parson Smith 
were buried side by side, and monuments erected over 
them as a mark of honor and respect. And to this 
day, I am told, on the second day of August, the bells 
are tolled in Deadwood. Two monuments were made 
for Bill. The first one was completely destroyed by 
being chipped by tourists and curio hunters. The 
present monument is protected by a steel wire en- 
closure. 

Wild Bill didn't in his career as a marshal impose 
on men because he was such. I will sight an instance. 
While at Hayes City, one Hughie Teets kept a butcher 
shop in that town, and had some hot words with Bill, 
finally saying, "Bill, if you will put your guns away I 
will fight you a fist fight." 

"All right," replied Bill, handing his guns to a 
friend. They went at it hammer and tongs. First Bill 
would have the best of it, and again Hughie. Finally 
Hughie backed Bill up against the sidewalk, which was 
about four feet higher than the street. Bending Bill 
back against the walk, he was pounding him unmerci- 
fully, when outsiders interfered. Hughie would not 
quit unless Bill would cry enough. This Bill refused 
to do. Finally the crowd, fearing that Hughie would 
break Bill's back, pulled him off Bill, who arose quietly 
putting his hands against his back, saying, "Hughie, 

you came d near breaking my back, but I still 

think I am the better man, and when I fully recover 
from this scrap, I will fight you again, but it will be on 
the prairie where there are no sidewalks." 



HARD KNOCKS Page 224 

Hughie replied, "All right, Bill, I will be ready any- 
time you feel like it." Some weeks after Bill called 
on Hughie, and said, "I have thought this matter over 
and have concluded to call it off, as I believe you are as 
good a man as I." This ended the matter. Hughie 
now resides in Portland, Oregon, hale and hearty at 
76 years of age. 



Page 225 HARDKNOCKS 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

PERILS OF THE TRAIL— A RIDE WITH DISPATCHES— 
THE HORSE A FAITHFUL SENTINEL— COMIC HAP- 
PENINGS IN DEADWOOD. 

A BOUT the middle of August there arrived in 

/\ Deadwood a courier with dispatches from 
L-M^ General Miles' command. This fellow had 
A .^ridden some four hundred miles and was very- 
sick with mountain fever. Being unable to 
continue his journey to Fort Laramie, and it 
being necessary to get those dispatches to their des- 
tination, he tried to secure someone to carry them 
through. Hearing of this, I received permission from 
Mr. Mann to make the trip to Fort Laramie, where I 
had some business I wanted to attend to. 

The courier gave me the dispatches and an order 
on the commanding officer for one hundred dollars; 
this amount was to be deducted from the money he 
was to receive. In making these rides one is com- 
pelled to ride nights, laying up in the day time, 
owing to the Indians being bad. I left Deadwood at 
nine o'clock P. M., and rode until just before day 
break. After watering my horse, I staked him out 
by driving a large picket pin in the ground, attaching 
to it a forty foot lariat tied to the horse's neck. This 
gave him space enough to graze. I then took my 
saddle, bridle and saddle blanket, going off some five 
hundred yards from the horse, where I lay down to 
sleep — or, to try to sleep. With the thought of 
danger in mind, I did not expect to sleep soundly. 
The reason for niy getting some distance away from 
the horse I will explain: 

If an Indian or Indians discovered a horse, they 
would straightway look for the owner and by being 
hidden in this manner, one would be less liable to dis- 



HARD KNOCKS Page 226 

covery and had a better chance of defending himself, 
as a Sioux Indian did not care to take an even chance, 
and would be more likely to take the horse than to 
hunt for its rider. Before approaching the horse in 
the evening about dusk, the rider arose carefully, 
looking at the horse and if he were lying down or 
grazing, the rider could be pretty certain that there 
were no Indians in very close proximity to him. On 
the other hand, if he were looking in any particular 
direction, and scented danger, he would throw his 
ears forward and if convinced that the object he was 
looking at was an Indian, he would run at top speed 
around the picket pin, trying to escape. It would be 
then that the rider must look out for himself. If 
any of these things did not happen, he would walk 
over to the horse, saddle him, water him, and resume 
his journey. 

It is wonderful when one is out with these animals, 
how attached they become. There were times when I 
would walk up to my horse, that he would nicker in a 
low tone and rub his nose against me in a very know- 
ing manner. Meaning, I presume, "I am glad to see 
you." The third night out on this trip, the night being 
very dark, I was riding through Red Canyon at a rapid 
pace. This was a very dangerous part of the road, as 
the canyon was deep and one each side very rocky 
hills; along the water's edge large willows grew, the 
road crossing a stream at four different points. 

Suddenly my horse shied, snorted and stopped, and 
came very near unseating me. I tried to urge him 
on but he would not move. Dismounting, and holding 
him by the bridle rein, I walked a step or two and 
found lying in their blankets, on the ground, a man 
and woman, killed and scalped. The Indians must 
have crawled upon them while they were asleep, 
as I saw no signs of a struggle. Hurriedly mounting 
my horse, I went on until I reached the end of the 



Page 227 HARDKNOCKS 

canyon, where there was a company of soldiers sta- 
tioned to escort teams through this canyon and pro- 
tect them. I told them of what I had seen and 
remained there during the day. About ten o'clock in 
the morning they brought the bodies there and found 
in addition to what I saw, another body — that of a 
negro woman. She too had been killed and scalped. 
I arrived in Fort Laramie in due time, delivering my 
dispatches and collecting my money. I remained there 
three days, returning to Deadwood with some 
freighters who were hauling freight. We had a very 
pleasant trip. 

Combined with a rough occurrences in Deadwood, 
we also had many innocent amusements, some of 
which were very comical. I have spoken of a char- 
acter named Cheating Sheely, so named on account 
of his being a great cheat at cards. It was utterly 
impossible for him to play cards for money or fun 
without cheating. He was our porter in the saloon, 
and received his pay every night — five dollars. He 
would then leave the saloon looking for some easy 
victim with whom to play cards. Cheeting Sheely 
invariably lost, as he was so busy cheating that he 
neglected to watch the actions of his opponents, who 
could also cheat, in many cases. However, one night 
he found an easy game in which he won three hundred 
dollars in gold dust. He now thought he had all the 
money in Deadwood. In order to win this he was 
compelled to play all night. When showing up at the 
saloon in the morning, he was so sleepy that he could 
scarcely keep his eyes open. The news of his winning 
was well known around the saloon. About three 
o'clock in the afternoon, he lay down on a bench at 
the rear of the room, taking off his coat and vest, 
which contained his money, and folding them up, 
placed them under his head for a pillow. Carl Mann, 
who was a great practical joker, seeing him sleeping 



HARD KNOCKS Page 228 

there, concluded to give him a scare, and if possible 
get possession of his gold. Gathering all the stools 
that we had in the house (we did not have chairs in 
those days), he piled them up over Sheely in such 
a manner that if he moved they would fall. Mann 
then took his six-shooter and fired it through the open 
back door. 

Sheely being an awful coward and having a great 
fear of a six-shooter, when the report aroused him, 
suddenly jumped up, knocking over the stools, rushing 
out of the back door, calUng out that he had been shot. 
Carl Mann then hurriedly took his poke of dust from 
his coat, substituting one of the same size, containing 
brass filings and other material. In a short time 
Sheely returned and picking up his coat, extracted the 
poke, saying it was a wonder some one had not stolen 
it. He then went off to bed without examining the 
contents. He returned in about an hour, his face as 
white as marble, exhibited the poke, and showed us its 
contents. We all laughed. Carl Mann told him to go 
after the fellow he had played cards with, as he was 
sure it was he who had buncoed him. For two days 
he hunted for this man. Carl Mann, being afraid 
Sheely would go crazy, returned his money. 

Another character. Pink Bedford, was a very fine 
poker player, and if sober, was capable of winning 
large sums of money. But poor Pink would go on 
periodical sprees, lasting until he would finally become 
sick. Carl Mann was much interested in this man and 
tried in many ways to keep him straight, but always 
failing. Finally he concluded that he would have a 
joke on him. 

Procuring a ladder about twenty-five feet long, 
Carl Mann and two others lashed Pink on it, with his 
feet resting on a round of the ladder, his arms being 
lashed to the side, allowing him space enough to bend 
his head over. They then took the ladder out in the 



Page 229 HARDKNOCKS 

street, setting it up against the building. When Pink 
sobered up a little, he could not understand where he 
was and began to yell. Mann ran out and threw a 
bucket of water in his face. This revived him very 
much. Mann then addressed him thus: "You must 
promise me that you will not drink whiskey again for 
six months and you must swear that you will not." 
Pink took some horrible oaths, one of them being that 
he hoped God would paralyze him if he took another 
drink of whiskey for six months. 

They then carried him to the rear of the dance- 
hall, standing the ladder against the door which 
opened in. The dance-hall girls lived in this end of 
the building. The manager, or bouncer as he was 
termed, stepping outside, hollered to the girls to come 
out there quick. When they opened the door, the 
ladder and Pink, naturally fell in on them. This 
frightened them very much. Pink begged for dear 
life to be released, but before doing so, they carried 
him through the dance-hall, finally bringing him over 
to the saloon and releasing him. 

Pink then behaved himself for about two weeks. 
One day, however, on going into the Montana saloon, 
one of his friends saw him setting a glass down on 
the bar, having just taken a drink. This friend then 
said to him: "Take a drink with me." 

Looking at his friend a moment, he said: "Do not 
tempt me. Don't you know I have sworn off drinking 
whiskey." 

His friend then said: "Take a cigar or something 
soft?" 

Pink, turning to the barkeeper, asked him to give 
him a drink of gin. Carl Mann, hearing of this, 
immediately went after him, reminding him of the 
oaths he had taken. After looking at Mann a few 



HARD KNOCKS Page 230 

moments, he said: "It was gin I drank, and I have no 
recollection of taking an oath only that I would not 
take a drink of whiskey for six months, which I 
intend to keep." This amused Mann very much. Poor 
Pink could not keep away from the booze, which was 
his undoing. 

In front of the window, outside of the Sixty-six 
saloon, Mann had a bench erected, which would accom- 
modate two people only. In one end of this he bored 
a small hole through it, placing therein a needle point- 
ing up, attaching to the head of the needle a small 
weight, and then running the string through the 
window to the inside of the building. Then he would 
get someone in conversation, sitting him down on the 
end where the needle was. Mann would have some 
confederate pull the string, which would pierce the 
one sitting there, the weight pulling the needle down. 
The hole in the bench was so small that it was not 
perceptible, the victim getting pierced, would jump up 
and with his hand feel on the bench and then to the 
part of his anatomy pierced, and many times would 
finally conclude that it was a sliver or something else, 
and would again sit down, when he would be pierced 
a second time. This caused a great deal of laughter, 
forcing the victim to buy the drinks for those present. 
The boys around the saloon worked this very strong, 
particularly one named Johnie the Oyster, so Carl 
Mann one day reversed the needle in the bench. Oyster 
coming along with a victim and not knowing that the 
needle had been changed, set his man down and began 
talking to him, when Carl pulled the string, piercing 
Oyster very hard. Oyster jumped in the air about 
three feet, yelUng with pain. The fellow with him 
thought that he had gone crazy, and I don't wonder, 
for Oyster was tearing around there, threatening to 
kill everybody in the saloon. However, in time he 



Page 231 HARDKNOCKS 

quieted down, treated everybody, and the bench was 
removed. 

I left Deadwood October 1st, 1876, in company with 
twenty others. We were employed by my friend 
Botsford and the Wheeler Bros, to guard two thous- 
and pounds of gold dust they were taking from Dead- 
wood to Cheyenne, as rumors had been circulated that 
road agents planned to hold up the same. The gold 
dust was transported in a four-horse wagon. We 
guards were mounted and heavily armed; five others 
and myself riding a quarter of a mile ahead as ad- 
vance guards and five others acting as rear guards, 
the balance riding each side of the wagon. 

We made this trip in very fast time, arriving in 
Cheyenne without any incident out of the ordinary. 
The owners of the gold dust paid us each two hundred 
dollars and a railroad ticket to any point desired. The 
owners went to the Centennial at Philadelphia, trans- 
porting their gold dust with them. I took my ticket 
to Eureka, Nevada, arriving there in due course of time 
with over five thousand dollars in my possession. There 
I met an old miner, who had partially developed a silver 
mine at a place called Tybo, two hundred miles south 
of Eureka. He gave me a half interest and together 
we went to develop it, I furnishing the capital. In 
three months I was broke, the mine proving a failure. 
I worked my way back to Eureka and from there to 
Winnemucca, Nevada, where I found a stock man who 
was transporting ten carloads of cattle to Oakland, 
California. He employed me to help care for them en 
route, giving me my passage and board. He kept 
telling me how valuable I was to him and that when 
he unloaded at Oakland, he would not forget me 
financially, as he knew I was broke. 

After unloading the cattle, he gave me his res- 
idence address in Oakland, telling me to be there at 



HARD KNOCKS Page 232 

five o'clock and if he was not there, that he would 
leave the money for me with his wife. I was at his 
house at the appointed time and was met at the door 
by his wife, who said: "Oh, you are the man who 
came with my husband on the cattle train. He is not 
in, but has left something for you." Whereupon she 
generously handed me the munificent sum of thirty- 
five cents. 

I took the money, looked at the woman in astonish- 
ment and said: "Is this all he left?" 

"Why, yes," she replied. "What did you expect; 
a million dollars?" 

"No, no," I answered, "this will last me the balance 
of my hfe." I shall always believe that she held out 
a portion of the money, or else her husband had 
peddled me a large amount of hot air during the trip. 

I crossed the ferry to San Francisco at a cost 
of fifteen cents, and was at last in a city of the 
Golden West, with a handbag and a capital of twenty 
cents with which to start life anew. This was in 
1877. Passing through the ferry station, it being 
about nine o'clock in the evening, I was accosted by 
one of the night-hawk hackmen, so numerous in those 
days. He snatched my bag from my hand, opened the 
hack door and insisted on my getting in. I immedi- 
ately recognized him as a man called Slippery Smith, 
who the year before had been run out of Deadwood for 
horse stealing and who was an all-round tough char- 
acter. He had not recognized me. 

Chuckling to myself, I got into his hack. He did 
not ask me where I wanted to go, but drove me 
around for half an hour, finally stopping in front of 
the Grand Hotel. Before opening the hack door, he 
demanded my fare, which he said was five dollars. I 
then asked him to drive me to the city jail. 



Page 233 HARDKNOCKS 

This was a puzzler to Slippery Smith, and he asked 
me why I wanted to go there. 

I replied : "To have you arrested for stealing horses 
in Deadwood." 

He then opened the hack door and under the street 
light looked me carefully over, and finally recog- 
nized me. Grasping me by the hand, shaking it 'till 
it was nearly torn from the sockets, he remarked: 
"Young, I am glad to see you. What in the world 
are you doing here?" I then told him my late ex- 
periences, also that my finances were reduced to 
twenty cents. He insisted upon my getting back into 
the hack, and drove to a restaurant where we partook 
of a fine meal. We then went to his room; Smith 
telling me to go to bed and that he would see me in 
the morning. This I did, and got a good night's rest. 

The reader must bear in mind that this was my 
first appearance in a large, civilized city for a num- 
ber of years. My friend arrived at the room about 
nine o'clock in the morning and took me to breakfast, 
where we talked over old times in Deadwood. Handing 
me a five dollar gold piece and giving me the address 
of the house, he told me to take in the sights and 
enjoy myself, and meet him at the room at six o'clock. 
I wandered around all day like a stray goose and 
wondering why in the vast crowd of people I met and 
passed there was not a single familiar face. 

Completely tired out, six o'clock finally came. I 
found the room and my friend Smith waiting for me. 
On the way to supper he informed me that he would 
take care of me until I was accustomed to city ways, 
and that the better way for me to do would be to ac- 
company him on his hack. I accepted his suggestion, 
and became what he termed the "hack dog." I did 
not ask him at the time the meaning of the term, but 
very soon found out by a little experience on the third 



HARD KNOCKS Page 234 

night. Our hack stand was at the corner of Bush and 
Kearney Streets and the business usually commenced 
at about two o'clock in the morning, after the horse- 
cars had stopped running. We were then on the alert 
for unfortunates, who, having imbibed too freely, had 
missed the last car. 

This particular morning we grabbed an athletic 
appearing young man, whom we put in the hack, and 
after considerable questioning got from him his ad- 
dress. After driving him around for about an hour, 
we eventually took him to his destination. The long 
ride had partially sobered him. On getting out of the 
hack. Smith demanded seven dollars, at the same time 
trying to impress upon the young man the fact that 
he had been driven to various places and that the 
charge was reasonable. I was sitting on the hack seat 
at the time and saw him knock Smith under the hack. 
This was where the part of the "hack dog" came in, 
as I was supposed to go to the assistance of the driver. 
This I quickly did, and had no sooner landed on the 
sidewalk, when the athlete landed on me, with a 
knockout blow between the eyes, putting me to sleep. 

When I came to, I found Smith still much dazed 
and our passenger gone. Both of my eyes were badly 
swollen and for the next few days very black. The 
next day in the room. Smith remarked: "That fellow 
was a corker." And I heartily agreed with him. 

I followed the hack-dog business for about a month, 
and I assure you had many funny experiences. At 
times when the passengers would not settle the ex- 
horbitant fares. Smith would drive them to the near- 
est policeman and if they had money on them, he 
would force them to settle; the policeman receiving 
a portion of the fare collected. If they did not have 
the money, we would take their watch, ring or any 
article of value, telhng them that they could redeem 



Page 235 HARDKNOCKS 

such article at the hack stand at the comer of Bush 
and Kearney Streets. This they invariably did. While 
I appreciated Smith's kindness, the business was not 
to my liking, and I could not get used to city life. 
Consequently when harvest time came, I severed my 
connections with him and left the busy city for life 
I was more adapted to. 

While out in the harvest field, I became acquainted 
with a man from Portland, Oregon, who told me of 
the many chances for a young man in that city. After 
harvest, I returned to San Francisco and from there 
took the steamer to Portland. In 1879, one year after 
my arrival in Portland, I was fortunate enough to 
get a position which in many respects was similar to 
my past experience and much like the work I had been 
accustomed to. 

The construction of the Northern Pacific railroad 
was in progress, through the sparcely settled country 
of Eastern Oregon, Idaho and Montana. My position 
was that of riding steward for the firm of Du Boise 
& King, who had the contract for the boarding of 
the white men on the construction. Having had ex- 
perience on the construction of the Atchison, Topeka 
& Santa Fe railroad, I thoroughly understood the 
type of men I would have to deal with. They were 
principally Irish and I found among them many of 
whom had worked on the Santa Fe in the same line 
of work. To the Irish we must give the credit of 
building the first transcontinental railroad. I often 
wonder what has become of this vast army of men, 
for they seem to have entirely disappeared, as far as 
construction work is concerned. It must be that they 
have been supplanted by the Italians and Japs. 

We boarded these men in large tents. At times 
there were as many as two hundred in one camp and 
about thirty camps strung along the construction work 



HARD KNOCKS Page 236 

for a distance of twenty-five miles or more. It was my 
duty to keep these camps supplied with food, cooks and 
waiters. We used tin dishes. As the construction 
work advanced, tents had to be moved. Our supplies 
were shipped from Portland to the end of the track 
and from there transported by four-horse teams. 
These men were a hard set of people to handle and 
made more so as whiskey was allowed to be sold in 
each camp. 

The reader can imagine approximately six thou- 
sand of these men being paid off on the first of each 
month, less four dollars and fifty cents per week each 
reserved for board. After being paid, the majority 
of them would go to the saloon, get beastly intoxi- 
cated and then settle any previous differences which 
might have arisen, by fighting like bulldogs. This 
was the particular time when they were looking for 
the riding stewart, blaming him for the poor quality 
of food and numerous other things, and winding up 
with threats of dire vengeance. There was no turning 
back on the part of the steward, for he had to meet 
them every day whether they were drunk or sober. 
And I assure you it required a good deal of tact and 
nerve for him to do so. I was mounted but not armed 
and had to be guided entirely by diplomacy. I will 
cite one of many instances during the year I filled 
this position. 

One morning at about four o'clock — five days after 
payday — I was within about a mile of Camp No. 25 
(each camp being numbered), when I heard a man 
groaning in the brush by the roadside. Dismounting, 
I found an old man named Pat Malloy, who ran one 
of the saloons at this camp. He had been badly beaten 
up by these fellows, and informed me that they had 
raided his saloon, demolishing everything and confis- 
cated his whiskey. He begged of me not to go into 
this camp, as they were planning on hanging the 



Page 237 HARDKNOCKS 

riding steward when he came along. I thanked the 
old fellow for the warning, but told him that I must 
visit the camp, which I did. I found a great crowd 
congregated there, formed in a circle, and in the 
center two men stripped to the waist were engaged in 
the so-called manly art of prize fighting. They had 
whiskey in tin buckets from which they were drinking 
freely. 

I rode up to the rear of the tent (they being out 
in front) and after tying my horse to a post, I entered. 
And such a sight I beheld! Tables turned over, dishes 
and cooking utensils scattered about, and the cooks 
and waiters gone. Not having had breakfast, I found 
a couple of biscuits and began to eat. Up to this time 
I had not been noticed. Presently someone called out, 
"Boys, here is the riding steward's horse. Let's find 
the steward and hang him." Then led by a big, 
strapping Irishman, they rushed into the tent. I 
stood my ground and putting up my hand and in a 
loud voice commaned them to stop, as I had some- 
thing to say. Their leader checked them, saying, 
"Let him talk. For it is the last talk he will make on 
earth." 

I began, "Boys, I am just the same as one of you, 
and working for wages the same as you are." (What 
followed verifies the biblical quotation, "Cast your 
bread upon the waters and it shall return tenfold.") 

Before I ceased talking, the leader suddenly raised 
his hand, saying: "Boys, yez shall not touch that boy. 
for, in the old Nicolai House in Portland, he 
gave me a bed and twenty-five cents to get my break- 
fast in the morning. If yez touch him, yez will 
have to fight me." This stopped them. They took me 
by the arm, in a friendly spirit, rushed me to the 
Hquor refreshments, insisting that I have a drink, 
then another, which I accepted. They then appointed 



HARD KNOCKS Page 238 

me referee of two fights that followed. After imbib- 
ing this bad, fighting whiskey, I was sorely tempted 
to go a round myself, but instead I hunted up the 
camp crew, finding them a mile down the road, hiding 
in the brush and badly frightened. After a good deal 
of persuasion on my part, I succeeded in getting them 
back to the camp. Straightening up the wreckage and 
getting the fire started, I waited for them to cook a 
meal and then joined the boys in eating it. The next 
day, upon visiting this camp, I found everything 
perfectly quiet and most of the men who were able had 
gone to their work. Carousals of this kind were a 
monthly occurrence. 

At the end of the year, my contract having ex- 
pired, I returned to Portland, none the worse for my 
experience. I then engaged in the baggage and trans- 
fer business, which I followed for six years. Tiring 
of that I became a traveling passenger agent for the 
Oregon Railroad & Navigation Company, A. L. Max- 
well, at the time, being General Passenger Agent. 
This position I held for five years, and when the great 
Klondike gold excitement broke out in 1898, I could 
not resist the temptation of joining the rush, leaving 
Portland on the first trip of steamer "George W. 
Elder," which was one of the first to arrive at Skag- 
way, Alaska. At that place I remained for a year, 
equipping and operating the first bathhouse in Alaska. 
In this business, I made a large amount of money and 
sold out for a good figure. I then went to Seattle, 
Washington. 

In the year 1900 the Nome, Alaska, excitement 
started. Twenty-nine others and myself took passage 
on a one hundred and fifty ton sailing schooner owned 
by D. H. Smith and D. Bogan. 

On our way to Dutch Harbor, Alaska, my partner, 
named Jim Harrison, had some misunderstanding with 



Page 239 HARDKNOCKS 

the captain. On our arrival at Dutch Harbor we found 
quite a number of steamships waiting until the ice went 
out of the Behring Sea. Wyat Earp had opened a 
gambling resort there. Temporarily whiskey was 
plentiful. We all enjoyed ourselves, Harrison, meeting 
the captain of the schooner, renewed his quarrel and 
knocked the captain down. Later I found that the 
captains of all the ships in the harbor decided at a 
meeting held by them, that none of them would allow 
Harrison and myself to travel on any of their ships to 
Nome. In other words, they intended to maroon us at 
Dutch Harbor. This was not very pleasant news. I, 
knowing Captain Tuttle of the Steamer "Bear," ap- 
pealed to him. He informed me he could fix it for me 
to go on any steamer, but I must not associate with 
Harrison. This offer I refused and stayed by Har- 
rison. We then received notice from the captain of 
the schooner. General McPherson, to come out in a 
small boat and remove our effects. This we proceeded 
to do. On our arrival at the schooner's side, we found 
the captain and first officer standing aft, each with 
a six shooter in his hand. I remarked to Harrison, 
"Don't say one word to them until I can get into my 
room and get my shot gun and put in two cartridges." 
We boarded the schooner, the captain and mate looking 
daggers at us. I secured the shot gun. Jim began 
folding up our blankets. When the captain and mate 
came down into the cabin, I stood guard with the shot 
gun while Jim packed our belongings. Then I ordered 
the captain and mate to step aside and allow us to de- 
part in peace, or I would blow their heads off. They 
let us depart in peace. I boarded the small boat, 
guarding Jim while he did likewise, and reached the 
shore without further trouble. This news was much 
exaggerated by the captain and mate. Now came the 
trial of getting passage to Nome. I finally found a 
steward I had known in Portland, who was employed 



HARD KNOCKS Page 240 

on the steam schooner "Nelson." He smuggled both 
of us on the ship, bringing our belongings by piece 
meal until all was aboard. We arrived in Nome in 
good shape, after bucking ice for six days. 

In a few days six of us with packs on our backs, 
started for the interior. On the third day out I con- 
cluded that the undertaking was too much for me, 
and realized that I was too old to stand the "Hard 
Knocks" I had withstood in the past, and turning over 
my pack to my comrades, after I had retained suffici- 
ent goods to last me, I returned to Nome. From Nome I 
took a steamer to Seattle, Washington, concluding I 
would pass the remainder of my life where there were 
paved streets, porcelain bathtubs and beds to sleep in. 
I did not stay in Seattle, however. After a while I 
moved to Portland, Oregon. 



Page 241 HARDKNOCKS 

CHAPTER XXV. 
MY BUFFALO VENTURE IN PORTLAND. 

JACK RUGG and myself purchased from Howard 
Eaton two buffalo, one male and one female, 
for one thousand dollars, delivered at Port- 
land. Eaton at this time owned a large herd 
of buffalo in Montana. Our contract with him 
was that the cow should be with calf, as we wished 
it to be bom in Portland. Our intention was to ex- 
hibit them. At Calispel, the nearest point, the cow 
in trying to jump out of the corral, injured herself, 
causing a premature birth. Eaton wired me what had 
happened and I instructed him to save the dead calf. 

Upon the car's arrival here, I gave the dead calf 
to L. L. Hawkins, who at that time was gathering 
relics for the City Museum. The buffalo I transported 
in a covered dray to a large tent, which enclosed a 
steel cage sixteen feet square and eight feet high, 
and in a short time I had tamed the male buffalo by 
feeding him myself three times a day. He was very 
fond of wild pea vines. I named him "Joe" and every 
time I fed him I called him by his name. Learning 
his name and knowing he was to be fed, Joe became 
quite gentle, so much so, that I could put my hand 
on his head. The cow I could not tame. She was 
frightfully mean and wild, and I could do nothing 
with her. 

Our venture turned out a failure and left us with 
two buffalo on our hands. After consulting with Mr. 
Rugg, we concluded to sell them to the city for their 
parks, which I succeeded in doing, receiving for them 
seven hundred and fifty dollars. From those two 
buffalo the city now have a herd of five fine specimens 
of these noble animals. Old Joe was killed two years 



HARD KNOCKS Page 242 

ago by his son — they having fought a great battle to 
the death for the supremacy of the herd. Joe being the 
older and less able to defend himself, had to succumb 
to youth and was horribly gored to death. The cow 
died previously. 

I am still residing in Portland, Oregon, and am 
in fairly good health, and where I hope to remain until 
I cross the Great Divide. 

Should any of my old-time companions visit Port- 
land, I shall be pleased to see them and they will 
always find the latch string on the outside of my door. 

THE END. 



Errata 

On page 13 the distance to Fort Gibson, in the Cherokee 
Territory is stated as 25 miles. It should have been 125 
miles. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

II II 11 III Mill III' nil I II ll|| 




